One Hello
by flashpenguin
Summary: Set 4 years after "A Christmas Carol", the angels are on a mission to save Dave and Em. But with time running out and Fate determined to have its way, will the former lovers be able to make amends and finally have the happy ending that was denied them? Co-written with Mattdawg.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: When I had finished "A Christmas Carol: Dave Rossi Style", I ended it on a note that even surprised me! I have to admit that I let emotion and personal tragedy get the better of me and I lashed out at people who criticized me thru my characters (yes, I spelled it "THRU"). I also hurt a lot of people who took that opportunity to turn and walk away. I don't blame them. But a couple of people stayed…one of them, my dearest friend Matt. He encouraged me to write this sequel, and wouldn't let me post until I had a few chapters in storage. And though he'll say he shouldn't, he's getting writing credit because this is his story, too. Besides, he DID choose the song prompt._**

**_For Matt. My truest friend who knows when to kick me in the ass and when to let me have my space. You are the greatest and I am so blessed. Can you believe it's been 4 years since we first chatted?_**

_**Song prompt: "One Hello" by Randy Crawford.**_

* * *

**DISCLAIMER!**

_A/N2: I wrestled with myself over the idea of continuing this story. One of the main reasons for quitting was that I no longer felt like writing. But then the events of Sept 11, 2012 happened, and it really hit home the subject matter that I was dealing with in this story of fiction. After talking with my sister, Em (yes, I have an Emily-for those not familiar with my tongue in cheek references), she said that I should continue. But I still feel nervous. See, this story's concept was done back in Dec 2011, and the first 5 chapters were written back in April/May 2012 - LONG before Ambassador Stevens was brutally murdered by Al Qaeda. There is no way I could have known that while I was writing about Emily Prentiss arguing for more security in Jordan, Ambassador Stevens was sending letters and cables to the State Department requesting MORE HELP in Libya! Honestly, I am not affiliated with the State Department or anyone who works there; this story was purely imagination, and I did not expect it to hit so close to home, but I will post it as I had written it MONTHS ago. It is NOT my intention to offend anyone. _**  
**

_This story, and its remaining chapters, is dedicated to the memories of Chris Stevens, Steve Smith, Glen Doherty, and Tyrone Woods._

* * *

**One Hello**

Perched on a cloud overlooking the earth below, Ray rested his chin in his hands and sighed. He wasn't sure if angels could feel melancholy, but then again, he wasn't an angel, so he probably could feel depressed. Was it wrong for him to have wanted things to work out so he could earn his wings? Had he been too selfish in wanting Dave to be redeemed so that he could move up and be in the 'elite group'?

But it hadn't worked out and now he sat on a cloud in heaven looking for an answer that didn't come. Yes, Dave had been redeemed and Em had made her peace with him, but they hadn't married to have a happily ever after. Maybe that wasn't the way things were meant to work out, but he had bet his wings on it. He had known Dave Rossi longer than just about anybody - save for Emma - and he knew that he had put his money on the right horse.

Until reality had thrown a wrench in the whole thing and now he was friendless and wingless. Was it possible that he was in hell in heaven?

"I thought I might find you here," Zoe spoke softly.

Ray didn't bother to look up. "I needed to think."

"You've been doing that a lot." She walked over to him. "Mind if I sit down?"

Ray shrugged. "Go ahead."

"What's bothering you?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Zoe smiled softly. "Try me."

"I failed Dave."

"No you didn't," she contradicted.

"Yes, I did, Zoe. I made a promise that I would straighten Dave out so he and Em would have their happy ever after. Now he's alone and she's off to follow thru with her destiny to die loving him for the rest of eternity." Ray shook his head sadly.

"I thought I explained that it wasn't our job to get them together, but to save Dave from total destruction? Emily's destiny is out of our hands."

"Why?" Ray questioned stupidly.

"Because that's the way it is. God has other plans for her."

"But to let her die…?" Ray tried to wrap his brain around the fact that the woman he had come to admire was going to be one of them very soon…or at least one of his friends. He couldn't because he wasn't an angel.

"You know by now that God's plans are what's best. We can't begin to understand why things are done the way they are, but we need to accept," Zoe comforted.

"It isn't fair. Dave was almost there! He had found his redemption; he was on the right path!"

"It wasn't their time." Zoe sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's really bothering you?"

"I failed. I risked it all and in the end, I lost my chance at having my wings and being an angel," Ray admitted reluctantly.

Zoe looked at Ray for a long time without saying anything. What could she say to make him feel better? Death and heaven was different for everyone. And though she and Ray hadn't not known each other on earth, they were ultimately brought together by one man: Dave Rossi. The man they had admired and respected and wanted to be most like. The man they had lost their lives over. The man who had given them peace in the hereafter.

It was weird how it all worked out in the end.

But none of that was going to help Ray and make the pain in his heart go away. Nothing was going to ease the loss of his wings. Except for may be the news she had found out and come to tell him.

"It isn't over," Zoe stated.

Ray looked up in surprise. "What do you mean it isn't over. Dave was saved and Emily dies. The Big Guy has made His decision. And from what I can remember, it's pretty final."

"Not always. Things change. And when there is a chance for a person to be happy, then He's pretty willing to change His mind," she consoled. "Remember that when we took Dave on his journey, there were extenuating circumstances; Dave was on a highway to hell and so was the team. We saved them."

"Only to lose Emily in the end," Ray groused.

"That's not for certain…"

"I saw it! Emily goes to Jordan and dies and Dave mourns her for the rest of his life!" Ray argued. "That's their destiny."

Zoe shook her head. "I guess since you've been here on the cloud thinking by yourself, you missed the last thirty seconds. Something has happened to change destiny….maybe," she corrected.

Ray's head snapped up. "What do you mean? Did they get back together? Did Dave go after her?" he rushed on excitedly. His friend deserved happiness in every way, and if it was in his power to give it, then come what may…

"You might have your wish," Zoe replied. "And since you are willing to go to the end for Dave, the Big Guy thought you might want this task." She looked at him with a soft smile.

"What task?" he inquired. A thrill went thru him, but at the same time he tried to hold himself back.

"Guardian Angel."

"Guardian Angel?" He frowned as the words dawned on him. "I can't…I don't have wings," he reminded Zoe.

"If this goes the way it should, you will have your wings."

"But…" Ray tried to make sense out of the request. "Dave has you, and Em has Emma…where do I fit in?"

"Remember the morning that Em dies?"

Ray nodded. "Christmas 2015 in Jordan. She was killed by a terrorist during an assault at the embassy," he recalled from memory. "She was protecting a little girl."

"She was. And now that little girl is going to be your responsibility," Zoe stated.

"My responsibility? Why? I mean: who is she and why is it important to guard her?" He held his breath and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Claire Marie Elizabeth Prentiss," Zoe replied simply. "Em's daughter."


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER!**

_I wrestled with myself over the idea of continuing this story. One of the main reasons for quitting was that I no longer felt like writing. But then the events of Sept 11, 2012 happened, and it really hit home the subject matter that I was dealing with in this story of fiction. After talking with my sister, Em (yes, I have an Emily-for those not familiar with my tongue in cheek references), she said that I should continue. But I still feel nervous. See, this story's concept was done back in Dec 2011, and the first 5 chapters were written back in May 2012-LONG before Ambassador Stevens was brutally murdered by Al Qaeda. There is no way I could have known that while I was writing about Emily Prentiss arguing for more security in Jordan, Ambassador Stevens was sending letters and cables to the State Department requesting MORE HELP in Libya! Honestly, I am not affiliated with the State Department or anyone who works there; this story was purely imagination, and I did not expect it to hit so close to home, but I will post it as I had written it MONTHS ago. It is NOT my intention to offend anyone. _**  
**

_This story, and its remaining chapters, is dedicated to the memories of Chris Stevens, Steve Smith, Glen Doherty, and Tyrone Woods._

* * *

**One Hello**

_J. Edgar Hoover Building_

_Quantico, VA_

_Four years later…_

Stepping on the elevator, Dave Rossi squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. In the breast pocket of his coat, he felt his phone vibrate. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen: _A. Hotchner._ What ever the news, he knew it couldn't be good. Twenty plus years of working as a federal agent had taught his gut that when the phone rang early in the morning, the news was anything but good. And when his presence was requested, that sealed the deal.

Flipping open the phone, Dave answered it. "I'm on my way, Hotch. Getting off the elevator as I speak." He hit 'end' before the BAU Chief had a chance to reply. Just then, the doors opened to the BAU floor.

Making his way thru the double doors, he made his way past the empty desks of the deserted bullpen. Out of habit, his eyes flicked to the first desk on the right. A melancholy feeling came over him and he tried to shake it off. Four years after she left him in the church on Christmas morning, Emily Prentiss still had the ability to shake him up.

"Get over it, Dave," he grumbled to himself. "She's gone to bigger and better things, and you are here in Quantico in the middle of winter. Besides, it isn't her desk any more." Usually the pep talk cheered him up, but not today. Something was hinky.

Climbing the short staircase to the second floor, he made his way to Hotch's office. Knocking once, he paused, then walked in. His eyes went immediately to the Unit Chief behind the massive desk. Another look around and he noticed Erin Strauss and two other men. None seemed surprised to see him. Immediately, his feelers went up.

"You wanted to see me, Aaron?" he asked and stepped inside.

"Close the door, Agent Rossi," Erin Strauss directed from the other side of the office.

Too intrigued to argue, Dave did as he was told. "Is there a party happening that I forgot to circle on my calendar?" he quipped tongue in cheek.

Hotch stood up. "Agents Jack Robinson and Matt Edwards, I would like you to meet SSA David Rossi."

Agent Edwards extended his hand in greeting. "It's nice to finally meet you, Agent Rossi. I've been a fan of yours since high school."

Dave shook the younger agent's hand. "You're welcome."

"Nice to meet you, Agent Rossi," Agent Robinson echoed.

Dave shook the other man's hand. "Thank you." Turning to face Hotch, Dave raised his eyebrow. "I'm sure you didn't wake me from a dead sleep on my day off to meet my fans," he appraised. "So, what's happening?"

"Sit down, Dave." Hotch waited for the older agent to make himself comfortable. "I didn't mean to call you in, but something has come up…"

"What Agent Rossi is trying to say," Agent Robinson interrupted unceremoniously, "is that Agent Edwards and I are with the CIA and we need you."

Dave had to many years experience to be caught off guard, but the news was enough to stun him…if only for a moment. Recovering, he let out a long breath and sized the younger agents.

"The CIA needs me?" he asked sarcastically. "May I ask why?"

"It has come to our attention that you have an inside knowledge of Al Qaeda splinter cells," Agent Robinson replied. "Your last book '_Inside The Heart of The Enemy Mine' _took a look at the terror cell from a different angle."

"It was supposed to," Dave stated smoothly. He templed his fingers as he tried to feign interest.

"And your research was impeccable," Agent Robinson continued. "So much so, that a few people in the CIA and Interpol wanted to launch an investigation on how you discovered your information and who your sources were…"

Dave held up his hand and nodded. "I appreciate that you like my work, but I'm not sure how my book has caused you to seek me out. I'm an FBI agent trained in hostage negotiation. My knowledge of CIA ops and Interpol could fill a thimble. So, unless you plan to subpoena me for my 'sources'," Dave gestured quotation marks with his fingers, "I would like to go back home and head out to my cabin." He moved to get up.

"We don't want to subpoena you, Agent Rossi," Agent Edwards stated firmly. "We want to recruit you."

Dave stopped and turned to face the agents. "You want to_ recruit_ me?"

"Yes. Your inside knowledge and your negotiation skills are what we are looking for." Agent Edwards looked at his partner. At the nod, he continued, "I might as well come clean with you."

"That would be helpful," Dave remarked sarcastically.

"Dave..." Hotch cautioned.

"We have reason to believe that Al Qaeda has a cell operating somewhere in the Middle East - "

"All things considered, that would not be surprising," Dave interrupted.

"And they are planning an attack on an embassy," Agent Edwards continued nonplussed. "We don't know which one. But when it goes down, we are going to need someone on the inside to help us negotiate so the body count is kept to a minimum."

"Al Qaeda doesn't fuck around, gentlemen," Dave pointed out matter of fact. "They won't negotiate. They would just as soon decapitate their hostages than to let them walk out alive."

"We know that, but chances are that the first wave is going to be a splinter cell and they tend to recruit teenage boys looking to earn a few dollars…"

"Which means that there is more than a greater chance that the body count will rise," Dave said. "Those young boys are scared or high and they think they're immortal."

"But if we can get someone in, maybe be a voice of reason…" Agent Edwards argued.

Dave watched the agents' body language. He could smell bullshit a mile away and there was no doubt in his mind that he was being bulldozed. They were hiding something…everyone from Hotch down was hiding something.

"I'm flattered that you would consider me, but I don't understand what I can do or how I can help with something that may or may not happen," Dave replied casually, knowing that his words were fishing for something to help him find out what he needed to know.

"There are better and younger agents out there that could help you with your task, and I'm sure any of them would jump at the chance to help you defend a country from terrorists," he continued and waited for a response. As the seconds ticked by, the room remained quiet. "Okay," he announced dramatically. "I'm out of here."

Agent Edwards looked at his partner nervously, then cleared his throat. "We haven't been completely honest with you."

Dave cocked his head. "Oh really?" he mocked sarcastically. "Since when? And which part?"

"We know one of the possible cities where the uprising is going to happen, but we don't know when. We have tried to get every foreign diplomat and their families to their respective embassies, but at the same time, we don't want to frighten anyone. If our sources are wrong…."

"And it has happened a couple of times," Agent Robinson interjected quickly.

"We can't afford for a reverse uprising. We're walking on shaky ground already," Agent Edwards finished. "We do have someone on the inside monitoring the situation, but…"

"But…?" Dave prompted.

"We figure since you two have worked together in the past, you might be able to help out with getting things organized. Especially if there is a chance their position might be compromised.."

Dave's eyes narrowed. "I've worked with this person before?" he asked carefully. "May I ask who this person is?"

"Emily Prentiss."


	3. Chapter 3

**One Hello**

Emily Prentiss stepped inside the foyer of the lavish, impressive American Embassy and set her purse down on the table nearest the wall. Unwrapping the thin scarf from around her head, she hung it on the coat tree.

"Ambassador, you're home," greeted the matronly lady from the grand ball room. "How was your day?"

"Hello, Julia," Em returned with a smile. "It was long; how was yours? Did Claire give you a hard time today?"

"She was an angel. We made cookies and studied her lessons." Julia stepped forward and took Em's coat. "You look tired," she observed. "Why don't you go visit with Claire and I'll get your dinner ready."

Em looked at the clock on the wall and bit her lip. "I don't want to wake her."

"I doubt that. She's been waiting all day to see you," Julia replied. She hung the coat in the closet. "She has something important to tell you."

Em smiled. "I wonder what that could be…" she mused.

"One guess: Santa."

"Ah." Em headed toward the staircase.

"Your mother called," Julia said politely. "And there was a call from the Secretary of State."

Em nodded. "First thing's first. I'll be down in a few," she called over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs.

"Take your time, Ambassador," Julia assured her.

Making her way down the wide hallway, Em listened for any noise to indicate if her daughter was awake. Stopping at the third door on her left, Em turned the knob slowly.

"Mommy, you're home," the little dark haired girl shouted as she jumped off the bed and into Em's arms. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Claire," Em laughed as her daughter rained kisses on her face. "Were you good today?"

"I was! I made cookies!" Claire clapped happily.

"All by yourself?"

Claire grinned broadly. "Almost."

Em drank in the loveliness of her daughter. Gently she smoothed down the black curls. "Oh come here," she whispered and gathered Claire into her arms. "I missed you so much."

"Mommy, you squeeze too tight," Claire complained.

Em loosened her hold but didn't put the girl down. Instead, she walked over to the bed and sat down. Her arms stayed wrapped around her child.

"Mommy, how many more days before Christmas?" Claire asked. Her tone was serious.

"We still have a little while," Em replied and sat down on the side of the canopied bed. "Why?"

"Are we going to stay here or go visit Grandmere?"

"Do you want to visit Grandmere?" Em asked.

Claire shrugged. "Where is she again?"

"In London."

"Does it snow there?" Claire's eyes were wide with anticipation.

Em nodded. Reluctantly. "It does. A lot."

"Will it snow here?"

Em shook her head. "Probably not. I lived here when I was your age and I don't remember snow."

"But how can Santa come without snow?"

Em chuckled. "That, my love," she said and kissed Claire's cheek, "is why he is called 'Santa'." Reaching down, she pulled down the comforter and patted the mattress. "Time for bed."

"I'm not tired," Claire protested. Then she yawned widely.

"Yes you are. If you go to sleep, we can go shopping tomorrow." Em patted the mattress again. "Come on."

Reluctantly, Claire moved from her mother's lap to the bed. Getting comfortable, she rested her head on the pillow and gave another yawn.

"Mommy?" she whispered as sleep began to over take her.

Em ran her hand over Claire's hair. "Yes?"

"Can I have a daddy for Christmas?"

"We'll see."

"Thank you." Claire was asleep before Em could reply.

Standing up, Em gazed lovingly at the little girl but her heart constricted painfully. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her daughter - walk thru fire, fight lions bare handed, walking across the desert in the hot sun sans water or food - but get a daddy for Christmas?

Em sighed heavily. "You do have a daddy, sweet Claire; maybe when the time is right, you'll get to meet him. I'm just not ready to see him again." Bending over, she pressed a kiss to Claire's temple. "Sweet dreams."

Leaving the room, Em headed down the stairs to the study. Closing the double doors, she sniffed the air appreciatively as the scent of food wafted to tickle her nose. Her stomach rumbled. It had been so long since her light lunch. Picking up the silver lid, she grabbed a fork and began to dig in just as the phone rang.

"Ambassador Prentiss," she greeted semi coherently.

"Hello, Emily. This is Secretary Keifer. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Em swallowed quickly. "No, Mr. Secretary. I just got home from meeting with the King and was getting ready to sit down for dinner."

"I didn't mean to bother you."

Em shook her head. "It's no bother. I was going to call you with my report. But since you beat me to it…"

"What is the word?" Secretary Keifer asked. There was hesitation in his tone.

Em considered lying, but thought against it. The inevitable was going to happen and putting it off wasn't going to delay the consequences.

"It's not good. This parliament is refusing to believe that there could be an uprising in the works and expressed that they would squash it before it begins," Em relayed.

"What was the sentiment over all?"

"We need to start getting people out of here. I heard thru the grapevine that something could be happening on or around Christmas…"

"Christmas is the one time we are vulnerable…" the Secretary admitted.

Em nodded. "More so than any other time. I'm afraid that if the King tries to repress the protesters, it could backfire and we could have Tehran all over again."

"I understand."

"I think the Muslim Brotherhood has infiltrated the students' organization. It could get bad if they decide not to come to the table," Em continued.

"Are there provisions for evacuating in the event of an emergency?"

"There are, but I am still coordinating with the military for the planes. We are going to need them if the going gets rough."

"I can work on getting that set up," he offered, "but the most I can give you is twenty four hours. I can't leave the planes there on the tarmac to be sitting ducks for possible terrorist attacks."

"But if we can't get everyone together…"

"It worked out in Hanoi," he reminded her.

"But it didn't work in Tehran," she contradicted. "And this is an entirely different situation."

"What about Israel?"

"If things get too bad here, we have been offered sanctuary there until we can be evacuated." Em paused for a moment. "Speaking of evacuation, Mr. Secretary…I would like to send my daughter to London for the holidays with my mother…just to be on the safe side.

"That may be impossible. I cannot let you out of the country and I can't allow her to leave her post," Secretary Keifer replied.

"But she's my daughter," Em protested and tried to reign in her temper. "She's only three and a half; I can't have her here. What if things go…horribly wrong?"

"The embassy is protected, is it not?"

"Yes."

"The President is requesting that more military guards be posted. That should protect you both."

Em wanted to shout that nothing short of having an arsenal of weapons at her disposal was going to protect her daughter and ease her mind, but she bit her tongue.

"Besides," the Secretary continued, "I have word that the CIA is sending someone to help you out. If things get too bad, maybe he can help evacuate Claire."

Em shook her head. "What do you mean the CIA is 'sending someone'? What is going on that you aren't telling me?" she demanded.

"He should be there any moment. Listen, Emily, I have to go to a meeting with the President; I will call you in the morning."

"Charles…" Em used the Secretary's Christian name to get his attention.

"I will pass your report on to him," he continued without interruption. "Give Claire my love. Bye."

"Charles!" Em repeated angrily. A dial tone was the only response. Frustrated, she hung the receiver on the cradle and ran a hand thru her hair. All hell was on the verge of breaking loose and no one wanted to believe it. Now the CIA was sending someone to 'help' her. She had enough to worry about without having another body thrown into the mix.

Taking a bite of the roll, she chewed but her appetite was gone. Replacing the lid, she stood up. A nice long, relaxing bath sounded good…then she could call her mother. Maybe they could think of a way to get Claire out of Jordan.

"Are you alright?" Julia asked as Em stepped out of the study.

"I am," Em lied easily. "I hate dealing with politics. I'm going to take a bath."

"Did you finish your dinner?"

"I will when I come back down."

"Emily," Julia admonished gently, "you don't eat enough."

Unable to meet the housekeeper's eyes, Em looked away. "I just have a lot going on right now. I wish I could tell you…"

Julia laid a hand on Em's shoulder. "I understand. Have you talked to your mother?"

"I will." Em was interrupted by the intercom. She pressed the button on the phone to reply. "Yes?"

"Ambassador Prentiss? This is Corporal Wilmot at the front gate. You have a visitor. He says he's reporting on behalf of a CIA task force. His paper work is in order."

"Send him up," Em ordered. Hanging her head, she groaned. "So much for my bath. I suppose our 'guest' is going to be hungry…"

"I'll make him something," Julia offered.

A knock on the door filled the empty foyer. "There he is," Em quipped. "I wonder who Charles decided to send to 'protect' me and Claire." She walked to the front door and punched in the code to disarm the lock. Pulling open the heavy reinforced oak, she started to speak, then froze as she recognized the face in front of her.

"Hello, Emily," Dave greeted. "Long time, no see."


	4. Chapter 4

**One Hello**

"Hello, Em. Long time, no see," Dave greeted nonchalantly as though days had passed instead of years.

Em stood in shock as she tried to comprehend that it was Dave Rossi standing on the porch of the United States Embassy. It had to be a bad dream…what else could explain his presence?

"Aren't you going to let me in?" Dave asked.

Em's grip tightened on the doorframe to help steady her suddenly weak knees. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been ordered to provide security for you," he replied smoothly. Four years since he had last seen the woman whose heart he had broken and all he could do was stare. Was it possible that Emily Prentiss had grown more beautiful since that night she had turned around and left him in the church on Christmas Morning? Her black hair was rolled up, so he couldn't tell if she had grown it out or cut if off. But at least she had let her bangs grow out. Now there was nothing to take away from her huge brown eyes…the eyes that used to shine with love for him.

Dave shook his head to clear it. He had a job to do and he couldn't let the past get in the way of performing what he had been ordered to do. Too many lives depended on him to be on task.

"Here are my orders." Dave handed over the manila packet. "You'll find that it's all legitimate."

"I didn't ask for you."

Dave shrugged. "You may not have asked for me, but obviously someone thought that you needed to have me."

Em opened the envelope and pulled out the official letter. Quickly her eyes scanned the words more than once to make sure that there wasn't a mistake.

"No one told me."

"It is supposed to be a covert operation. Only the top brass at the FBI and CIA are privy to my presence here…oh, and the President, of course," Dave supplied. "You can call him - or Hotch - if you want."

"Hotch knows about this?" Em growled.

"He was there that morning when the CIA came to the Hoover Building and requested my cooperation. Strauss was all for me coming out here. Seems she still has some pull."

"You are supposed to be retiring in April!"

"Yeah, well, that has been put off until further notice because if this doesn't turn out the way the higher ups want it to, retirement might be replaced with a full colour guard funeral," Dave quipped.

"What do you know?" Em whispered.

Dave paused as he weighed his words. He had to get on her good side if he was going to be allowed in to her life. He couldn't mess this up.

"Only as much as you do. I know that there is noise of an uprising and the Muslim Brotherhood are refusing to come to the table," he supplied carefully. "I know that you are hitting dead ends every time you turn around…"

"And that is why you are here, now? You think I can't handle brokering peace to stop an uprising?" Em bit out.

"It has nothing to do with your capabilities, Em; if they rise up, it could be worse than Tehran in '79. And there is more to lose if that happens."

The same words she had told the Secretary of State not an hour earlier. Em blinked quickly as tears burned her eyes and tried to escape.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Here." Plain, simple. To the point.

"You can't stay here!" There was fear in her tone.

Dave shrugged his shoulders. "I am an American on orders; I am allowed to stay at the embassy for as long as it takes to get things situated. And if that fire in the far corner of the town was any indication of things getting 'situated', I might be here for a while."

"You can't…" Desperation was in her plea. He couldn't stay; there had to be somewhere else, she thought frantically. Maybe he could stay…

"Ambassador, you have a guest," Julia announced cheerfully, interrupting Em's thoughts.

"He was just getting ready to leave," Em remarked casually with a lift of her chin.

"Actually, I am here until further notice. I'm Dave Rossi with the FBI," Dave introduced himself and extended his hand.

"Julia. I am the housekeeper. Are you hungry?" she asked politely. While she shook Dave's hand, she searched his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the stranger who had appeared on the embassy doorstep. She cast a quick glance at the Ambassador. And if body language was any indicator, this visitor was the last person she wanted to see.

"As a matter of fact, I am. The box lunch on the military transport wasn't much more than a snack," he replied with a charming smile.

"He can't…" Em protested. "He…"

"Yes, he can," Julia contradicted. "I made up the guest room just this morning. You can stay there." Julia guided Dave toward thru the foyer and to the kitchen. "Now sit while I get you something." She looked at Em who was standing in the doorway glaring. "You were going to take a bath and call your mother; I can take care of him." She wasn't one for prying, but with any luck she might get a couple of answers.

Realizing that she was outnumbered, Em sighed in defeat. "I should call my mother," she agreed. "Just make sure he doesn't make a lot of noise when he goes upstairs." Em gave Dave one last glare and left him and Julia alone.  
*****

"Hotch, why is Rossi here?" Em demanded in a low tone. She was trying hard to control her emotions and temper, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each minute that passed.

"Well, hello, Emily," Hotch greeted pleasantly.

"Don't try to placate me, Hotch; I just got the call from the Secretary of State saying that someone was coming to help me, and the next thing I know, David Rossi is standing at my front door with orders to report to the embassy. What is going on?" she hissed.

"About as much as you do," Hotch replied evenly. "The CIA showed up the other day and requesting Dave to help them with a joint task force on terrorism tactics and hostage negotiation."

"Why him?"

"His last book was what propelled this."

Em paused. "It was a great book," she admitted grudgingly. "Still…of all the people to send…I mean, don't they know we had a history?"

"With all the unrest in that area and the powder keg you're sitting on - I don't think that crossed their minds. And I'm pretty sure that you can put that behind you," Hotch remarked. "Didn't you tell me, before you left, that you were at peace with Dave and what transpired?"

"I was…I am," she corrected, "but that doesn't mean that he gets to waltz back into my life. Unless he knows about…" her voice trailed off.

"I didn't tell him, Em. You asked me not to, and I kept my promise. But he's going to find out that you have a child. Then what are you going to do? It's not as though you can hide her."

"I know."

"What are the chances of things calming down and peace coming into fruition?" The question was definitely a double entendre.

Em shook her head. "Slight. There's no rioting at the moment, but there is…unrest. I have been ordered to stand down. And I cannot bring my mother in to get Claire," she said as tears clogged her throat.

"That is what Dave is there," Hotch reassured her. "To protect you if things get bad. He still loves you…even if you can never feel the same way toward him. Let him do his job."

"I can do that," she sighed.

"If things get really bad, you have someone to help get Claire out of Jordan."

"I know."

"Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"I will. Give Jack a hug for me," Em said.

"Give Claire one for me," Hotch returned. "Bye."

"Bye."

Em disconnected the call and set the receiver down. She needed a vacation. Maybe after all was said and done, she could go back to Quantico and teach at the Academy. She just needed to make it to New Year's.

Shaking her head to clear it, she headed toward the Master bath. She still needed to call her mother, but it could wait until she had her bath first.


	5. Chapter 5

_I was going thru my files and found this and another chapter. I am posting because MattDawg threatened to take my LP collection and hold it hostage. Unfortunately, there is nothing after chapter 6._

**One Hello**

She knew there had to be a prize in the bottom of the box somewhere. "Come on," Claire muttered under her breath as she reached her short arm into the cereal box and searched in vain for the toy that was featured on the outside.

"I'm going to get you," she promised and dug again.

"Do you need a little help with that?" Dave asked from the doorway of the kitchen. He had stood watching the little dark haired girl knelt on the chair trying to find something in the cereal box.

"No," she replied, "I got it," and turned her attention back to her goal. Biting her lower lip, she gave it one more try.

"Are you sure?" Dave's voice held a lilt of humour. Walking over, he took the chair opposite of Claire and sat down to see what would happen next.

"I'm sure." Claire didn't bother to look up.

"What are you trying to do?"

Claire rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Get the prize. It's in the bottom of the box, but Mommy says I have to eat most of the cereal first. I can't wait that long."

Dave smiled then paused. There was something familiar about the little girl, but he couldn't put his finger on what it could be. Maybe it was the determination…or the way she held her head….or was it the way she bit her lower lip…?

Before Dave could give it much more thought, Claire picked up the box and dumped the contents into her dish. Cereal cascaded over the rim of the bowl, onto the table, then to the floor below.

Snatching up the cellophane wrapped prize, Claire gripped it in her small fist and held it up. "YES!"

Dave watched in stunned silence. "Little girl, your mom…"

"Claire Marie! Just what do you think you're doing?" Julia admonished as she rushed into the kitchen and began frantically sweeping up the sugary bits of multi-coloured cereal.

"I had to get the prize." Claire looked contrite but her eyes sparkled.

"How many times have I told you about dumping the cereal out?" Julia tossed the cereal in the trash bin.

"They shouldn't put it in the bottom," Claire protested. She hugged the prize to her chest.

Julia shook her head. "When the ambassador sees this…" she sighed and continued to sweep.

"I can help clean it up," Dave offered and rose from his chair.

Julia waved him off. "It's okay. Claire does this at least once a month. She can put the cereal back where it belongs." She grabbed the coffee pot, filled a mug, handed it to Dave. "The Ambassador is not going to be happy."

"Your daughter seems to be very determined," Dave remarked between sips of hot, strong Arabian coffee.

"My daughter?" Julia gave him a puzzled look.

"Uh…Claire," he corrected. At least he thought that was her name.

"Claire isn't…" she began but was interrupted by the voice from the doorway.

"Claire Marie Elizabeth Prentiss," Em stated, "what did you do now?"

A wide grin broke across the little girl's face. "Mommy! Look what I got!" She waved the object in the air triumphantly. "A chipmunk!"

"Hmmm." Em walked over and hugged her daughter. "Let me see that. Oh, it's Theodore." Em turned it over in her hands. "Looks like it was worth a box of cereal," she remarked with a smile.

"I like Theodore!" Claire reached for the plastic figurine, but Em held it back. "Mommy!" she whined.

"I like a clean kitchen," Julia stated from her place at the stove.

"You heard Miss Julia; now get this cleaned up. I will hold on to this." Em ruffled Claire's curls before turning to look at Dave. Four years away from the BAU had not stopped her ability to profile. "What?" she asked him.

"Claire is…yours?" Dave's tried to find the words. "I…I thought…she doesn't belong to…her?" He nodded toward Julia.

"No, Claire is mine." Her tone dared him to argue.

Dave looked from daughter to mother. And back again.

"Who is…?" he wondered but stopped - too afraid to hear the answer.

Em leveled her gaze at the man she had once loved beyond all reason…the man she had given her heart and soul to…the man who had broken that same heart and destroyed her trust.

"We will discuss this later," she replied evenly with a faux smile pasted on her face.

"I asked a legitimate question," Dave returned. There was anger tinged in his tone.

"And small pitchers have large ears. We will discuss this later."

Dave went to speak but Julia tapped his shoulder.

"Refill?" she inquired but her eyes were on Em. Wordlessly, Dave lifted his mug. "Breakfast will be ready in a few, Ambassador. Will you be staying in?" she wondered pleasantly.

Em grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it with the fresh brewed coffee. Absent mindedly, she added two Splendas. Stirring the liquid, she joined Dave at the table.

"Claire and I will be going out to finish our shopping," Em answered.

"Yay!" Claire cried out happily. "Can I get Grand-mere a present?"

"Yes, you may."

"I'm coming," Dave said, his voice cut thru the conversation.

Em sipped her coffee and counted to ten. "No, you're not," she replied with a tight smile that warned him to drop the subject.

Dave raised an eyebrow in mock challenge. "Yes, I am."

"I am the Ambassador here, and you have been over ruled," Em returned evenly. She wasn't going to let the famous profiler get under her skin, but she needed to set parameters and let him know who was in charge.

"That's where you are wrong, Tesoro; I have been sent here to protect you…and Claire….and any other American who might need my help. My orders come from the FBI and the CIA who are in cahoots with the President." Dave leaned forward. "So, I guess you've been overruled." He flashed her a charming smile that dared her to defy him. However, if Em's intense glare could be interpreted correctly, he was relieved to know that she was unarmed.

Setting her coffee mug down with a loud 'thud', Em opened her mouth to lash out a retort so painful and hateful that Dave would want to leave and forget about any agreement to protect her. But as the words started toward her lips, she caught Claire out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't just about her, anymore; Claire's life was at stake, too. Maybe it was time to bite the bullet.

Taking a deep, shuddered breath, Em closed her eyes and tried to find her balance. No matter how much Dave Rossi had thrown her for a loop, she still had a job to do, and she had to parent Claire.

"Can he come too, Mommy?" Claire asked. Her brown eyes pleaded…her father's eyes. Em didn't want to think about that now. She _couldn't_ think about that now. She sipped her coffee and took a minute to swallow before responding.

"He can come…" Em conceded, "…if he can be ready to leave when we are."

"Thank you, Em."

Em stood up. "I have to make some phone calls, Julia," she stated simply, deliberately ignoring Dave, "so I'll take my breakfast in the study." She grabbed her mug and refilled it. As she passed by Dave, she lowered her voice as she leaned in to whisper in Italian: "Don't _ever_ call me Tesoro, again."

She left him speechless as the kitchen door closed behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER!**

_I wrestled with myself over the idea of continuing this story. One of the main reasons for quitting was that I no longer felt like writing. But then the events of Sept 11, 2012 happened, and it really hit home the subject matter that I was dealing with in this story of fiction. After talking with my sister, Em (yes, I have an Emily-for those not familiar with my tongue in cheek references), she said that I should continue. But I still feel nervous. See, this story's concept was done back in Dec 2011, and the first 5 chapters were written back in May 2012-LONG before Ambassador Stevens was brutally murdered by Al Qaeda. There is no way I could have known that while I was writing about Emily Prentiss arguing for more security in Jordan, Ambassador Stevens was sending letters and cables to the State Department requesting MORE HELP in Libya! Honestly, I am not affiliated with the State Department or anyone who works there; this story was purely imagination, and I did not expect it to hit so close to home, but I will post it as I had written it MONTHS ago. It is NOT my intention to offend anyone. _**  
**

_This story, and its remaining chapters, is dedicated to the memories of Chris Stevens, Steve Smith, Glen Doherty, and Tyrone Woods. _

* * *

**One Hello**

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dave asked, but his tone was soft. Any accusations that he may have wanted to hurl at Em were on hold until he could get to the bottom of everything. It had been a productive day of shopping with Em and Claire, and he had done his best to hold his questions. Now they were back in the security of the Ambassador's residence, and it was time to get down to brass tacks.

Maintaining her patrician demeanor, Em didn't let her face reveal anything as she poured Scotch from the decanter at the bar. Replacing the cap, she brought the glass to her lips and took a long sip. Her nerves were on end, but before she could answer Dave, she needed to get centered. _It was none of your damn business,_ she finished bitterly to herself.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dave repeated, but this time there was an edge to his tone.

"About?" Em challenged.

"You having a child," he pointed out.

"Because there was no need to burden you with that information." Em popped the lid on the decanter. "Would you like a drink?" she deliberately changed the subject.

"Is that Scotch?" he inquired.

"I don't keep anything else in the house."

"Then make mine a double. God knows I'm going to need it." He waited patiently while Em poured the amber coloured liquid. Taking the glass, he noticed her hands. "You stopped biting your cuticles."

"I didn't want Claire to pick up on my bad habits." Securing the lid again, she walked over and took the chair opposite of Dave's. "I thought Hotch would have told you about Claire."

"Hotch didn't tell me a damn thing," he groused and twirled the rich, amber liquid. "Everything I got was classified and blacked out."

"Yet, you still took the job," she added with a snort.

"I didn't have much choice; the President expressed his desire for me to be here. I guess it had something to do with your parents."

Em sighed. A part of her had feared this moment from the second the stick had turned blue. Now, Dave Rossi was demanding answers to questions…questions that she was sure he didn't want answers to.

"Why don't you come out and ask what is really on your mind?" Em said impatiently. Her tone let him know that she wasn't going to pussy foot any longer. But it also let him know that if he wanted the truth, it was up to him to ask the questions.

Dave raised an eyebrow. He knew the game she was playing. He could play it, too. "Which is…?"

"Who is Claire's father?" She waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she answered her own question. "It's not Hotch…if that was the first thing on your mind."

"I know that he isn't."

"How can you be so sure? I remember that you accused us of sleeping together," she said bitterly. It was all she could do to bite her tongue as she remembered that Christmas from long ago…their _last_ Christmas.

"I can understand why you are still bitter…" Dave observed.

"I'm not _bitter_," Em interrupted. "I've moved on." She peered at him over the rim of her glass. "Have you? Or are you still married to the BAU?"

"I've moved on the best one can after they realized that they let the best thing in their life just walk out." Dave concentrated on the liquid in his glass as though he was trying to find some elusive solution to help him.

"I still write," he continued.

"But you're not married…you're not even dating," Em couldn't resist rubbing salt into his wound.

"I see you've kept tabs on me," Dave replied with a raise of his eyebrow.

Em's cheeks flushed pink. "Your name has come up with the team…every now and then. And yes, I've read your last two books…_and_ the reviews."

"I'm flattered."

Both of them fell into an uneasy silence as they waited for the other to speak. But as the minutes dragged on, the uneasiness turned awkward.

"I'm sorry for what happened," Dave finally spoke, his voice rough from emotion.

"That was a long time ago."

"I hurt you. I can't pretend that I didn't."

"Dave, don't," Em cautioned. She raised her hand to stop his words.

"I have to say what I couldn't back then."

"It's not going to change things. I moved on…you moved on."

"But that doesn't mean that I can't try to make things better for the future."

"There is no 'future', Dave," Em retorted. "You kicked me out of your life."

"You left me at the altar." Dave bit his tongue the moment the words left his mouth.

Em slammed her glass down on the coffee table. "You left me first." She stood up and placed her hands on her hips in defiance. "You lied to me. You strung me along and destroyed me in front of our friends and family, Dave. You didn't even have the decency to talk to me before dropping a bombshell that totally annihilated my trust and love."

Pride overrode any common sense that Dave hoped might help him maintain control.

"And that is why you lied about being pregnant? You lied about my child?"

"Don't you dare throw this on me, you egotistical bastard!" Em growled threateningly. "I didn't even know until I made it to London after Christmas. By that time, you were out with Swan's team in Oregon."

"You could have called me."

"And said _what_? That I was pregnant? Would you have believed me that it was yours? You already accused me of having an affair!"

"You didn't give me a chance."

"You lost your chance, Dave," Em said evenly. She had to remind herself that Claire was upstairs asleep."You walked out of my life long before I walked out of yours. I loved you more than I thought possible, but…" She shook her head.

"I was wrong, Emily. And no matter what I do or say, I can't take back that week." He sighed. "But I never meant to hurt you."

"You did. Whether you intended to or not, you nearly destroyed me."

"I'm sorry."

"Is that why you're here? Is this your way of clearing your conscience?" she wondered in disbelief.

Dave raised his head to look Em in the eyes. "I want to protect you. And now that I know about Claire, I want to protect her, too."

"This isn't going to work, Dave. Too much water has passed under the bridge," she pointed out.

"I understand. But let me stay until Christmas."

Em's heart began to beat faster at the thought of Dave Rossi under the same roof with her. "I don't think that would be…wise."

He was losing the moment but he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Just until Christmas," he reiterated firmly. "Then I will be out of your lives…if that is what you want."

"What about Claire?"

Dave frowned. "What about her?"

"You're not going to try and take her from me?" Em whispered. She could handle any situation, but there was always that fear of Dave someday taking her daughter. Now that the moment had arrived, she needed to know where she stood.

Dave considered Em's question for a minute. Yes, there was a part of him that felt betrayed by her and Hotch for withholding the truth, and it made him angry to know that he had missed out on every important moment in his daughter's life. He wanted to grab and hold on to the one thing he was told he could never have – the one thing Em had stolen from him. He deserved his child and to raise her the way he saw fit.

Yet, Claire was happy and healthy and well adjusted. She was beyond intelligent and more beautiful than even he could have imagined. Her life had always been Em; there was no way he could destroy another life because of his selfishness. He could be angry with Em, but he couldn't fault the way she had raised their daughter.

"No, Emily, I will not try to take Claire from you," he replied simply.

Em blinked quickly. "Thank you." She looked at his glass. "Do you want a refill?"

"I'm okay."

Taking the glass to the bar, Em set it down. "I have to turn in. I have a meeting with a delegate tomorrow," she excused herself.

"Will I see you in the morning?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Probably not. I have to leave early."

Dread filled Dave. "Stay safe."

"I will."

"Goodnight, Em."

Turning on her heel, Em walked out of the study and climbed the stairs, leaving Dave by himself.

Standing up, Dave walked to the bar and set his untouched drink down. It had been a long day and even longer night full of revelations. But that wasn't what was bothering him. A weird sense of déjà vu seemed to overwhelm him. He couldn't shake it. But it was nothing that Scotch could cure.

Maybe he just needed a good night's sleep. Leaving the room, he turned out the light behind him. He would worry about this feeling in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**One Hello**

Lying in bed, Claire waited until she heard the door of her mother's bedroom close. Carefully, she snuck out from under her covers and headed to the small table located near the window. The soft moonlight and the illuminating glow from the nightlight provided her the ability to move with ease.

Quietly she sat down at the table and began arranging the cups and saucers. She was supposed to have had her tea party earlier, but Mommy had taken her and the strange man out to visit the city. It had been fun, but she missed the party. She hoped her friend understood Christmas shopping.

"Hello, Claire," Ray greeted as he slowly appeared out of nowhere.

The little girl's face brightened. "Hi! I didn't think you'd come."

"May I sit down?"

"Please," she replied properly as her mother had taught her. "Would you like some tea?" She picked up the ceramic tea pot and pretended to pour liquid into the delicate petite flowered cups.

"Thank you." Ray took take the cup and mimicked a sip. "Hmmm. This is good. Did you make it with lemon?"

"It's very hot," Claire cautioned hastily. "You have to drink it slow, or you will burn your tongue."

Ray feigned a burned tongue and quickly set the cup down. Claire laughed out loud. Remembering she was supposed to be asleep, she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Uh oh." Claire listened for any movement in the hallway. She turned her head and looked for shadows passing outside her door. Silence hung as she waited. Nothing happened. She let out the breath she was holding.

"What's wrong?" Ray asked with concern.

"I'm s'posed to be asleep," Claire whispered loudly.

"Ah. I see." He remembered all the nights he waited until his parents settled down so he could sneak out and talk to Dave via the tin cans and string. Or the times he snuck the flashlight under the covers so he could finish that one particular great comic book. Oh, he thought to himself, to be young and do it all again.

"Did you come by today?" She carefully placed the plastic donuts on the small plates and handed one over to Ray.

"I did," he confirmed, "but you weren't here." He was supposed to be guarding her, but finding her bedroom empty when he arrived had frightened him in a way he couldn't describe. Because he had never had children, he wasn't sure what their schedules consisted of, or what their plans were supposed to be. He wondered if it was too late to ask Zoe a couple of more questions regarding his charge.

"Mommy took me and her friend shopping." Claire pretended to take a bite of her pastry. "It's almost Christmas."

"I know." Ray mulled over Claire's comment. "Your mommy has a friend?"

"His name is Dave. I think he and Mommy worked together."

"I see." Dave was here, Ray rejoiced inwardly. All was not lost. Maybe there was time to change things. "Do you like him?"

Claire gave a small shrug. "He's nice. He didn't yell when I spilled the cereal."

"That's good," Ray agreed.

She leaned in close. "But I don't think Mommy likes him."

"Did she say that to you?" Ray was all ears. Knowing how Emily responded to Dave could go a long way to how the plans were laid to help save everyone.

"No. I just know. Like I know I don't like lima beans without eating them. Yuck!" She made a face to emphasize her statement.

Sharp kid, Ray smiled to himself. There was no doubt she had inherited the best of both parents.

"Dave didn't like them either," he replied without thinking. He gave himself a mental kick. Jason was not going to be happy with that slip up. _Maybe she hadn't heard_, he comforted himself. He could still keep the cat in the bag.

Until the gasp.

"Dave doesn't like lima beans?" Claire's eyes grew round with admiration. She liked the strange man, and now she knew why.

If angels – correction - angels in waiting could sweat, he was definitely doing it right now. Ray cleared his throat. "So, Claire, what did you buy, today?" A change of subject to draw her attention elsewhere. That was all it took. Amused, he tried to hide a grin as she reeled off about shopping._ Ah_, he thought, _women and shopping. Some things never changed._

"…and I bought a pretty dress for Grand-mere," she gushed happily while relaying the day's events, "and some earrings for Aunt JJ and Aunt Penny."

"Oh."

"Mommy says we might go to London for Christmas."

"Really?"

"Mommy says it snows here – sometimes," she injected quickly. "But I want to see Grand-mere and I want to see snow. How is Santa s'pose to get here without snow?" she whined softly and held up her hands.

"Maybe you can get to London for Christmas." Angels were supposed to have blind faith in the plan, so why were his fingers crossed when he assured his charge? Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled and untangled his fingers.

"Will you be there?"

"Do you want me to be there?"

Claire raised her cup to her lips. "I like you." Ray figured in child talk that meant "yes".

"I will be around as long as you need me."

Claire looked at him quizzically. Her eyebrows furrowed much like Dave's. "What are you?"

"Your friend," he said simply.

She rolled her eyes. "I know that. Are you an angel?"

"Sort of," Ray confessed. "I'm a guardian angel."

"Where are your wings?" She peered to look at Ray's back.

"I'm a 'special guardian angel', so I don't need wings," he fibbed. "If I had them, I wouldn't be able to sit down and have tea."

"Oh!" That solved everything in her mind.

Ray's sharp hearing picked up the chiming of the Grandfather clock down in the foyer. "I see it's time for little girls to go to bed."

"I'm not tired," Claire protested. Then she yawned widely. "I'm not tired." The cup clink onto the saucer.

"Well, pretend to sleep," Ray offered.

"Okay." Sleepily, Claire made her way from the table to the beautiful canopied Princess bed. Wearily she crawled under the covers. Another yawn overwhelmed her.

"Will you come tomorrow?"

"Yes." He waited for her to settle.

"Ray," she whispered in a slurred voice thick with sleep, "what does guard mean?"

He paused. He couldn't be totally honest with her, lest he frighten her. But at the same time, he couldn't lie to her, either.

"It means that I will protect you," he replied matter of factly.

She wanted to ask Ray if he knew her daddy, but the words wouldn't come. Maybe she could ask him tomorrow she thought before falling fast asleep.

"I mean it," Ray whispered as he watched the child sleep. "And somehow I have to find a way to protect your mom and dad, too." He _would_ find a way, he solemnly vowed.

A bell was ringing; he was being summoned. Rubbing his forehead with a tired hand, he disappeared in the same manner as he had arrived.

But he would be back.


	8. Chapter 8

**One Hello**

Kicking off his boots, Dave sat down on the edge of the full sized bed and sighed. Forty-eight hours after arriving in Jordan, he had learned two things: Em still hated him beyond anything he could have imagined, and he was now the father of an incredibly beautiful, charming little girl.

Although the knowledge of siring a child had hit him like a ton of bricks, it was the fact that Em still wanted his head on a platter was what made his heart hurt. He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so absurd.

Rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes, he tried to comprehend all that had transpired. But the more thought he put into it, the less sense it made. He needed answers to the hundreds of questions that were filling his brain. Glancing at his watch, he mentally calculated the time difference. It was still possible that the team was at the Hoover Building.

Picking up the bedside phone, he requested a secured line. No matter what the one report had stated, he believed more in what he witnessed – fires burning at all hours were more than enough to put him on high alert! And since there were eyes and ears everywhere, he wasn't going to make it easy by letting the bad guy in on his conversation.

He counted the clicks as the line was scrambled and he was connected to Quantico, Virginia. The phone on the other end was picked up on the third ring.

"Agent Hotchner," greeted the baritone voice of the BAU Chief.

"Hello, Aaron," Dave greeted.

"Dave! Thank God! I've been worried about you!" there was relief in Hotch's tone. But there was also reprimand.

"I made it to Jordan. Needless to say, Em was not happy to see me," the older agent continued with a soft snort.

"That bad?"

"Well," Dave drawled, "I'm still living and breathing, but I think it's mostly because Em didn't want to set a bad example."

Hotch didn't have to ask what Dave had meant by that statement.

"You met Claire."

"You could have warned me, Aaron," Dave replied, not trying to hide his anger.

"Dave…" Hotch searched for an excuse that would be worthy of the secret he had kept. "You have to see it from my point of view. Things were not good between you and Emily at that time. And after what happened at Christmas, we agreed that it might be best that you didn't know."

"I had the right to know that I had a child!" Dave bit out angrily.

"You lost that right when you destroyed Emily after you kicked her out of your life."

"I wanted her back!" he argued. "I asked her to marry me, and she walked away!"

"She didn't have a choice, Dave. She was confused and hurt. I guess you would have to see it from her point of view."

"I said I was sorry. I was working on making it up to her! But I don't know if I can forgive her for keeping my daughter from me." Dave sat down and ran a hand thru his hair. "Everyone at the BAU knew…except for me." He snorted softly. "Talk about getting to the party a day late."

"You're getting a second chance now," Hotch pointed out matter of factly. "Emily hasn't shot you, and you made it to Jordan in one piece. That seems to be a step in the right direction. So, tell me, what is Claire like?" he changed the subject.

For the first time since he could remember, Dave's smile was genuine. And real.

"I can't describe it in words," he replied. "She's brilliant and remarkable. There are things she does that remind me of myself, but she looks just like Em. Although, I can see some of my mother in her." His heart constricted painfully at the realization that his mother never knew her only grandchild. Now more than ever, he wished he could go back and change things.

"Does she know about you? That you are her…" Hotch trailed off.

"No. I think we're still sizing each other up. But I think it can wait."

"I agree. So, how are things there?"

Dave let out his breath in one long stream and shook his head. "It's pretty bad. But not like what the news is portraying. From the little bit I saw when I arrived, this whole place is a powder keg getting ready to explode at any moment." He paused, sighed. "Em hasn't come out and said anything, but I can tell she's nervous."

"I am assuming that the embassy has guards?"

"Armed to the teeth. Even the car is bullet-proof. But if that one flag that I saw over the tower was any indication of things to come… Aaron, I…" Dave stopped. What could he say? That he was afraid? That a feeling he couldn't explain was chilling him to the bone?

"The news is reporting that the King is trying to calm things down," Hotch offered. "A riot could be avoided."

"I don't know. All they need is one spark, and this whole place is going up. I can't put my finger on it, but things are beyond hinky. If the drawn look on Em's face could be translated, her negotiations are not going well."

"Has she spoken to you about what's happening?"

"Unless you count me confronting her about Claire, I would say that the talking has been kept to a minimum. But I am going to talk to her in the morning," he amended.

"Keep her in you sights, Dave; I have a bad feeling about this."

"No matter what is transpiring between us personally, I'm going to guard her with my life," Dave vowed solemnly.

"Ever since Haley, I've learned to read the signs," Hotch continued as an after thought.

"I understand. Nothing is going to happen to Emily and Claire. If I have to, I'll do everything I can to get them out of here."

"I trust you. Call me tomorrow?"

"I will. In the mean time, get Garcia on line and have her find out everything she can about the insurgents camping out in the south end of the city. Maybe if we can present this to the White House, we might get something done here." _Before it's too late, _Dave finished silently.

"I'll have her put a rush on it and send you a copy of everything."

"Thanks, Hotch. Tell Jack that I'll be there in time for his birthday, and I'll be bringing something special back."

"Stay safe, Dave."

"I will."

Dave disconnected the call and leaned back against the headboard. Something wasn't right about this mission he had been sent on. From what he could tell, Em seemed to be a one woman negotiation process going up against a huge wall of resistance. He had seen her talk down serial killers and suicidal UNSUBs and succeeded at bringing the bad guy to justice. He didn't doubt her ability to make people see things from her point of view. And yet, the situation in Jordan was getting worse, not better.

He needed a shower to clear his brain and help him form a plan to get into Em's world. She wasn't going to trust him – not after all that had transpired between them – but he was going do what he could to change that.

Undressing slowly, he replayed the day's events. If he was going to make a way in, it was going to be thru Julia. It was a well known fact that the help were always more privy to what was happening than anyone else. He would start with her.

Turning on the shower to full blast, he let the steam fill the room while he hung up the robe on the hook on the door. Carefully he stepped into the tub and let the water run over him. One step at a time, he decided. And maybe once he got some sleep, he would be able to figure out why he couldn't shake that sense of déjà vu.

Until then, he was going to be Emily Prentiss's shadow.


	9. Chapter 9

**One Hello**

Hidden in the dimly lit hideaway that she considered her second home, Penelope Garcia sat at her computer desk, but her mind was on something other than the information that was scrolling across the screens. Actually, that something was a someone: Emily Prentiss.

It had been four years since her little chick had flown the coop and took off to a better place – if you could call being stationed as an ambassador in one of the most volatile places on earth as "better". Yes, she knew that life went on and things had to change, but that didn't mean that she had to accept it. But she could comfort herself in knowing that Emily was happy and she had someone to call her own.

She was, in a word, jealous.

Ever since her break up with Kevin, it seemed her life just went around in a never ending circle that only included work and home. Hotch tried to keep things running just as smoothly as when the team was together, but after assuming Erin Strauss's post, the firm but gentle hand was shifted to include all the teams. He even pulled out the stops to make sure that she became his personal tech analyst. He did everything he could to make life at the BAU seem normal. But it no longer felt like a family. And when JJ was put in charge of Public Relations, the thread that bound them was broken.

She had tried to search out Derek, but after he was transferred to the Tactical/Demolitions section of the FBI, he was difficult to get in touch with. Once in a blue moon their paths crossed and promises of getting together were made, but nothing ever materialized. When she had five minutes to herself, she found herself daydreaming about him, but did he do the same for her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Garcia?" Hotch asked as he walked into the secret lair.

She straightened as soon as her name was said. Swiveling around in her chair, she greeted Hotch with a smile. "Hi, Boss. What brings you here?"

"I need you to do me a favour…unless you are ready to head home." Hotch held the folders firmly in his hands.

Garcia shook her head. "I can stay."

"I know it's Friday night…"

She gave a sarcastic snort. "Friday is just another day of the week."

"If you're sure."

"Well, it would depend on what you want me to do." She tilted her head to get a look at the folders in Hotch's grip. "What is that? An elusive UNSUB who needs to be brought to justice?"

"I talked to Rossi…"

Letting out a squeal, Garcia jumped up. "You did?! Is he okay? How is Emily? Have they spoken?" she rushed on so fast the words seemed to merge.

Hotch held up his hand. "One question at a time: Rossi is okay; no bullet wounds to speak of or to report. Emily is working hard…as usual. They have spoken, and to answer your question: Rossi knows about Claire."

Garcia clasped her hands. "What did he say? How is she? Does she know?"

"He commented that Claire is remarkable and brilliant…"

"Of course! She is a product of Emily and Rossi!" Garcia interrupted.

"…she's fine," he continued, "but she doesn't know about Dave being her father."

"I don't understand." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's a long story. But none of that will matter if what Dave relayed is true." Hotch handed the folders over. "It seems that what the news is reporting doesn't come close to the actual situation. It appears that insurgents are setting up something in the city."

Garcia took the folders and glanced thru them. "Insurgents? You mean…Al Qaeda?" She swallowed hard as fear threatened to overwhelm her. "From what I heard, Jordan was neutral."

"He wasn't specific. It could be – they did raise a flag over a tower and there are fires burning on the outskirts of town. But it could also be a cell. Ever since Jordan, Israel and the U.S. finalized the peace accord, the unrest has been building."

Garcia's head snapped up. Her eyes were full of worry. "But…but, Emily's safe, right? And Claire, too?" Tears shimmered in her big brown eyes at the thought of her goddaughter in danger.

"Everyone is safe," Hotch assured her. "Dave is making sure that nothing happens to them."

"But what if…?"

"That is why Dave was sent over there. He is working on a contingency plan to evacuate Emily and Claire if anything happens."

"But they tried that in Tehran in '79," she pointed out. "It didn't work. And these people are worse. I've seen the pictures and videos," she continued. "They chop heads off." Her stomach roiled at the thought of worst case scenario.

"Garcia, it's okay," Hotch placated and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Dave knows what he's doing. He is an expert negotiator."

"But…"

"But, nothing. I need you to do some research. Actually, Dave requested that you work on it."

"Anything," she breathed and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Can you get into that computer of yours and find out which insurgents are camping out in Jordan and who they are affiliated with?"

She nodded. Sitting down, she adjusted her chair. It was going to be a long night. "I can get you the name of the leaders, if you want. And when they formed…"

"I want _everything_."

"Everything, it is." She turned to face the screens. Within seconds, her fingers were flying over the keys at lightning speed. "Do you want me to send this to you when I'm done?"

"Send it to Dave, myself and make enough copies, just to be on the safe side."

"Consider it done, Boss." Garcia's eyes were glued to the information that filled the screens.

"Oh, Garcia?"

She stopped in mid-type and spun to face the man she considered her mentor. "Yes, Boss?"

"Have you spoken with Morgan, lately?" he wondered.

"No, sir."

Hotch considered her response. "I see." He nodded. "Get those reports started."

"Aye aye, sir." She gave him a salute.

With a smile, Hotch left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Don't worry, Emily," Garcia muttered under breath as her fingers flew. "I will find these creeps and make sure they don't do anything to hurt you. I've already buried you once, and that's enough for me. I want you and Claire home." She paused in her work.

"And Agent Hard Ass, too."


	10. Chapter 10

**One Hello**

"I wish you hadn't followed me," Em commented as she poured herself a glass of wine.

"I promised to protect you."

Em sighed and sat down on the couch. "Protect is one thing, but what you were doing… You nearly smothered me."

"I'm not going to apologize." Dave raised an eyebrow and dared her to argue.

She shook her head. She wanted so badly to tell him what was on her mind, but she was too tired. It had been a long day with the British ambassador, and now all she wanted to do was relax.

"No. David Rossi doesn't apologize…if memory serves correctly," she murmured.

"Unless I'm wrong."

The sound of feet approaching, halted her retort.

"Mommy! You're home!" Em barely had time to put her glass on the table before Claire flung herself into her mother's arm.

"Hi, Princess," Em cooed. "How was your day?"

"I missed you. Why did you have to leave?" Claire pouted pathetically.

"I had some important meetings. But I'm home now."

"Can I call Grand-mere?" Claire pulled back to look at her mother with pleading eyes.

"After dinner. She might still be at work." Em picked her daughter up and placed her on her knee. "Maybe we can colour."

The little girl cast a glance at Dave. "Can he colour?"

"I don't know. You might need to ask him."

"Mr. Dave -" Claire began.

"Dave," he corrected.

"Mommy says I can't call adults by their first name, 'cause it isn't nice."

Dave considered his response and counted to ten. "Your mommy is correct. So, what do you want to ask me?"

"Can you colour?"

"It's been a while," he confessed.

"Will you help me colour for the tree?"

"The tree?" He looked around the room to identify what she might be talking about.

"The Christmas tree, silly!" Claire laughed and clapped her hands.

"Well, I suppose…"

Claire leaped from her mother's lap and ran toward the stairs. Stopping on the first stair, she turned and held up her hands. "Don't move! I'll be right back!"

"She told me," he said with a chuckle.

"She can be a little bossy."

"Guess it's in her genes." Dave turned toward Em. "She may call me 'Dave', I don't mind."

"I do. She has to respect her elders."

"There isn't any harm in letting her call me by my first name," he argued.

"If I let her get away with this, then I will have to cut her slack in other areas."

"That's not true. Besides, this is different." He waited for her reply. When it didn't come, he continued.

"Well, if you have a problem with her calling me by my first name, maybe we can compromise and let her call me 'Dad'," he lobbed back at her with a satisfied smirk. There was no mistaking the glare Em shot him.

"I'm back!" Claire announced and ran over to where Dave sat. Setting the colouring book down on the table, she opened the box of crayons. "'cause it's Christmas, you have to stay with red and green." She pulled the crayonsout and handed it to him.

"That book is yours," she nodded toward the thick booklet with a Santa and tree on the cover.

Em stood up. "If you two will excuse me, I'm going to check with Julia about dinner." Heads bent over their projects, Dave and Claire barely acknowledged her departure.

Stepping in the kitchen, Em let out a shaky breath. "Damn you, Dave Rossi," she muttered softly.

"Excuse me, Ambassador?" Julia turned from her place at the sink. "Did you say something?"

"It was nothing. I was just… It was nothing," she repeated.

Julia dried her hands on the towel and approached Em. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I noticed that since Mr. Rossi has arrived, you've been a little on edge…"

"I want to push him off the edge," Em muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it." Em waved her off.

"As I was saying, I…is he Claire's father?"

Em brushed a lock of hair from her left eye and gave the older woman a tight smile. "Yes. Yes, he is."

"And she doesn't know." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. When Em's reply didn't come, Julia continued.

"May I ask what happened?"

Em blinked back the hot tears. How was it possible that Dave Rossi could still make her cry after all of these years, she wondered.

As the silence in the room stretched, Em debated with herself before the words tumbled out.

"He and I were partners when I was with the FBI. We…we fell in love and were engaged to be married, but…he changed his mind and called it off. A week later, he changed his mind. I turned him down, resigned from the FBI, went to England as a Linguist, and after Claire was born, I was appointed as an Ambassador to Saudi Arabia, then here."

"I see. Why do you think he is here?" Julia wondered.

Em brushed a tear from her cheek. "I don't know. My former boss said that Dave was assigned to protect me."

"Do you think that's true?"

"I don't trust a lot of people, but Hotch has never lied to me."

"But you're not sure."

Em gave a short laugh. "Are you a mind reader?" she teased.

Julia shrugged. "I've just been around a lot of people. It's not too difficult to see that you've been under a lot of stress, and his arrival only added to everything." She lowered her voice. "But if I must confess something, I am glad he's here."

"What do you mean?"

"I have eyes and ears, and I know that something is happening in the city. I know that every day you come home exhausted and frustrated. You try to hide it from Claire, but I see it." Julia laid a hand on Em's shoulder. "Tell me the truth, are we in danger?"

"It's not good," Em admitted reluctantly.

"Will help be arriving if we need it?"

Em paused. She couldn't lie, but she couldn't tell the truth, either. "I'm working on it."

"I see." Julia lovingly cupped Em's cheek. "Maybe you don't love him anymore, but you shouldn't completely shut him out. He's here for a reason, Emily. Accept his help, you may need it."

Em flicked her gaze to stare at the marble tile floor.

"If anything happens, I want you to get Claire to Israel," Em hoarsely whispered.

"I won't leave you. Besides, if anything were to happen - which it won't - Dave should have Claire."

Em slightly shook her head, closed her eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of. He says he won't take her from me, but I don't know. So, I can't let him…" Claire was her only grasp on sanity in an insane world.

"Look at me, Emily," Julia ordered. "Dave is her father. He has the right to know her. If anything happens, I know that he would lay his life down for her."

"I would, too," Em argued.

"I don't doubt you. But you have to consider your daughter. Have you called your mother?"

"Yes. She's trying to get to Israel, but the snow storm in London is making flights difficult."

Julia patted Em's cheek. "I have faith that you will make the right decision. And I know that God has a plan for all of us. Even if you can't see it right now."

"Thank you, Julia."

"Go get yourself together while I finish dinner." Julia watched as Em took the second door to the hidden staircase. Once she was out of view, Julia let out a long breath. She could see it in Em's eyes that they were in danger. The stench of burning tires more than hit it home that it was possible that time was running out.

Maybe Dave was the bastard Em described, but she had seen him with that little girl, and there was no way he would abandon her. That being said, could he abandon Emily to save Claire?

Julia shook her head. She didn't know. She didn't want to know.

So she prayed for an answer.


	11. Chapter 11

**One Hello**

"I don't think I can do this," Ray stated as he walked toward Zoë.

Turning from her chore of polishing stars, Zoë looked at him in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"Taking care of Claire." Ray sat down with a heavy sigh. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Setting the cloth down, Zoë gave him her full attention. "I'm sure you're doing just fine."

"I'm not! She asked me who I was tonight."

"What did you tell her?"

Ray shrugged and gave a hard snort. "The only thing I could tell her: the truth!"

"I see."

"She saw right through me," he continued. "I never had a chance to make up a lie or distract her."

"You can't lie, Ray, it's not possible when you're an angel in training," she comforted.

"But I wanted to!" He got up and started pacing. "I've lie and cheated all my life, but the moment I was around her…" He ran a hand thru his hair. "I wanted to protect her."

"That's not unusual for a guardian angel."

"She's sharp, Zoë. She's more than a chip off the old block. I don't know how long I can pretend that I don't know Dave and what their relationship is," he rushed on.

"What did you do?"

"I…" Ray tried to think of something to soft the blow of what he was about to confess.

"Ray, tell me."

"I messed up."

"How badly?"

"Jason is going to kill me."

Zoë gave him a comforting smile. "I sincerely doubt that will happen; you can't kill an angel." She took his hand in hers. "Jason is not the one in charge, I am. So tell me what happened."

"I slipped up. I nearly let the cat out of the bag."

"I see."

"She was telling me about doing things you don't like to do…and somehow she mentioned not liking lima beans. Before I could process the moment, my mouth disengaged from my brain and I confessed that Dave doesn't like them, either. I tried to distract her by focusing on shopping," he amended.

"Hmmm." Zoë carefully weighed Ray's confession.

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'hmmm'."

"No. I know that tone; it means that you think I messed up."

"Don't get defensive," she cautioned. "I'm thinking things over."

Ray took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands.

"What you did wasn't exactly the end of the world."

He looked up at her in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"It was a slip up, but it didn't harm anyone. You _were_ telling the truth."

"What if she says something to Dave? What if he asks where she heard it from? I can't go down there and tell her to lie!"

Zoë shook her head. "No, you can't. I need to consult for a moment. Excuse me." In the blink of an eye, she disappeared. Counting the stars surrounding the cloud, Ray tried not to worry, but as eternity dragged on, he wondered what was taking so long.

"You worry too much," Zoë spoke from behind Ray.

Startled, he turned around. "That wasn't nice!"

"Sorry. I had to talk with The Big Guy," she said. Ray swallowed hard. He knew that he was walking a fine line as it was, but now that the Higher Ups were involved and watching his every move, it only made him more conscious of his slip of tongue.

"You're not in trouble. Actually, what you did was set things more in motion."

Ray was stupefied. "What?!"

"Dave has blocked out my visit to him. Something is keeping him from remembering what happened in Jordan during my Christmas visit four years ago. And if he can't remember, things are going to be worse than originally thought."

"What's preventing him from remembering?"

"I think you know."

"Is it possible?" he wondered. Dave was good people. Em was good people. They saw evil every day and conquered it. Was it possible that…?

"The evil they have been fighting is creeping into their lives," Zoë read his mind.

"But evil can't conquer good," he protested.

"Not directly. But Emily is in the middle of evil. There are evil forces all around her. Even though her heart is good and pure, she is outnumbered."

"She's trying to bring peace to those people!"

"Exactly! Evil doesn't like to be defeated. And all the evil that Emily and Dave have defeated in their lifetime has been harboring and waiting, biding it's time to rear up and take back what it believes was stolen."

Fear gripped Ray. "I don't understand."

"Because Dave can't remember what happened to Emily, when the events do unfold, it's going to be more tragic." She paused for a moment. "This time, everyone dies. No one lives."

Ray shook his head. "No! No! I won't let that happen! Send me down there…I'll take the bullet! I won't let them die!"

"Ray…"

"This can't happen," he raged on as though Zoë hadn't spoken.

"Ray…" she repeated more forcefully.

"After all we've done. After all they have done. No! I won't let…"

"Jeremiah Reagan Finnegan!" Zoë spoke sharply. That got his attention. Stunned speechless, he stared at her. "Enough. Now take a deep breath."

He did.

"Feel better?"

"No," he admitted angrily.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know what I told you may have come as a shock, but you have to know the truth."

"No, I didn't," he argued.

"Yes, you did," she contradicted. "Now you know what we are facing."

"Evil in its rawest form."

She nodded. "Yes. That is why your slip up was helpful."

He gave a short laugh full of mirth. "That's a first."

"Honestly, Ray, planting that seed in Claire's head is going to help Dave. The Big Guy thinks that what you did was commendable."

"Another first."

"I think you're doing an okay job as a guardian angel," she praised.

"Pffft. I never had kids; I don't know the first thing I'm doing…"

"The tea parties are a good start. Besides, you developed a trust with Claire. That's a huge step. You're doing fine."

"If you say so."

"It's not me saying so." Her eyes twinkled.

"Wow! Never thought I'd see the day when I would get heavenly praise."

"Keep it up and those wings will be yours." Her eyes shined with pride.

"I can hope."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Ray, what is our definition of hope, here?"

"Hope is the lazy man's way of achieving success," he recited from memory.

"Keep that in mind. You _are_ going to get those wings," she vowed.

Ray nodded in agreement. "May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Did The Big Guy let you know if, when all is said and done, Emily and Dave live?"

"No."

Ray digested her one word reply. He wanted to argue and fight for his friends. But then it dawned on him that his mission wasn't Dave and Emily, it was Claire. He had to protect her. Come what may.

"Okay."


	12. Chapter 12

**One Hello**

Garcia knocked on the door frame of Hotch's office. "Sorry to disturb you, boss, but I found the information you requested."

"Come in and close the door," Hotch said and laid down his pen. Even though he was in the middle of paperwork, some things - like the lives of his friends - were more important. The rest could wait.

"What did you find?"

Garcia walked over to the massive oak desk. In her hands was a thick folder full of things she wished she didn't know. The scenes of carnage and brutality were going to haunt her for many nights. And now that her angel was in the middle of that evil, her worry was being thrown into overdrive.

"Remember when you had me go into people's pasts and find out everything I could on them? And remember when I told you that I was never going to do that again because the things I found out were disturbing and…well…just wrong?"

"I remember," Hotch replied.

"I wish I had kept that promise." She handed over the folder. "It's not good. But it's not bad, either," she amended as Hotch flipped thru the papers with the expertise of a seasoned lawyer.

"Factions of terror cells?" he wondered.

"It appears so, sir. There's not many of them. Right now they seem to be causing mischief…though burning tires and cars is not what I would define as mischief. But I guess when you don't have TV or arcades, the mind can become the Devil's playground," she groused with a sarcastic snort.

"Where are most of them located?"

"It's hard to tell. Some appear to be local cells, but in that region…it could any where. Since Jordan borders a few countries, they could just be flowing over the borders. A few of them, though, might have ties to Yemen and the group that caused the terror attack in 2008."

Hotch continued to read at lightning speed. "Do they have a leader?"

Garcia shook her head. "They're just loitering at the moment, so they don't have a 'leader'. I couldn't pick up any chatter, but then again, there is so much coming out of that area at all times, it's difficult…"

"CIA firewall?"

"The best that money can buy. Though I did manage to get around one," she crowed happily.

"I hope you covered your tracks," he warned.

"I did," she admitted. "But I also made sure that there is a path for me to get back in."

"Good."

Garcia waited a moment then blurted out, "Why don't they just go in and remove Emily and the others like they did in Saigon? Or Tehran?"

"Because this is different," Hotch answered. "The coordination…the man-power…"

"Are you saying that because someone might have to coordinate something, my angel might die?!" Garcia shrieked.

"Garcia, keep it down. I honestly don't know what is happening. Emily is a great communicator and though things are rough out there, she knows how to ask for help."

"I'm not doubting that she knows how to ask for help," Garcia fumed, "I'm saying that the dopes in charge of things have their heads so far up…"

"Penelope," Hotch warned cautiously.

"Sorry, boss." She looked at him contritely. "What are you going to do with that? I mean, are you going to give it to Emily and Rossi?"

Hotch closed the folder. "There is no way I can get this to her securely. Unless you did a download…"he prompted.

"I always make a copy of everything. Does she have a secured site?"

He nodded. "She does."

"If…" Garcia paused and swallowed hard. The nightmare she had had gripped her and refused to let go. She didn't want to know the answer to her question, but she had to ask.

"If something were to happen to the embassy," she continued, "would Emily be able to get to the British one?"

"I don't know. It would depend on many…things."

"Like whether or not there are adequate guards."

"I have been assured that there is adequate security at the embassy."

"But there was in Tehran! And…and they didn't have the things that these guys have now. I mean, RPG's?! The Iranians had manpower. These guys…" Garcia cried passionately.

"If they have those weapons, they are getting them from somewhere."

"Al Qaeda would be my first guess."

"Any luck on finding out the origins of the flag on the building?"

"Not yet. But I will."

Hotch looked up from the folder and smile warmly. "I have no doubt in your abilities."

"Have you heard from JJ?" Garcia changed the topic of conversation.

"In fact, since you asked, she and Henry are coming over for Christmas."

"She mentioned that she had plans for the holidays, but I thought she was going to New Orleans."

"I thought you would be more privy to her schedule," Hotch said. "I mean since you and Henry were practically joined at the hip."

"Well, I was thrown over for the _other_ godparent when Munchkin Man found out that Uncle Spencer was an expert on dinosaurs," Garcia replied with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "I mean, T-Rex is a cool creature, but he has nothing on computers and hard drives."

"I'm sensing some jealousy."

"Not really. When Henry realizes that he can't do things with a dinosaur like he can with a computer, he'll be back."

"Well, I heard that Reid is discovering the world of video games. You might have a battle on your hands."

Garcia gave her most winning smile. "I have ice cream and a cool car."

"Henry won't know what to do with himself." Hotch closed the folder and leaned back in the chair. "I spoke with Morgan."

"Oh?" Garcia tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart picked up speed. And though she lowered her eyes quickly, the sparkle was caught by Hotch.

"He asked about you."

"Oh? I mean, oh, really?"

"I hope you don't mind, but I told him that you had the weekend off."

"I…but…the reports for the end of the month…you and I…" she stammered.

"I am giving you the weekend off to go Christmas shopping. Things are going to be busy enough next week without having to hit the malls in the middle of the week," Hotch said. "Go out and relax. You've been going above and beyond the call of duty for me. And," he paused, "this will give me a chance to spend time with Jack."

"But what about…?"

"He's in a totally different department now and no longer affiliated with the BAU, so the fraternization regs don't really pertain," he said with a wink.

Garcia smiled as the meaning of the words dawned on her.

"Oh. Have you done your shopping?"

"Not really. Jessica is taking care of that. Besides, there's a good game on, and I think that Jack and I should…" he searched for the right word. "…bond."

"I see." Garcia glanced at the folder. "When you want me to send that, let me know."

"I have to inform the CIA and FBI Director, first."

"Okay." She turned to walk toward the door. "You and Jack can come shopping with us," she offered.

He shook his head. "Go have fun."

"See you on Monday."

"Bye, Garcia." Hotch gave a farewell gesture with his forefinger.

Hurrying to her lair, Garcia grabbed her purse and tote. She was going to see her Dark Knight for the first time in nearly a year. Pulling out the small compact, she checked out her features. Oh, she had so much to do to get ready, she moaned to herself. A nice long, perfumed bubble bath and that new outfit she had been dying to wear forever would go a long way to looking presentable tomorrow.

But first things first, she vowed. Picking up the phone on her desk, she dialed quickly.

"Hello, my buttercup," she greeted into the receiver.

"Pen!" JJ greeted happily. "How are you?"

"Tired, but I have the weekend off."

"That's great. Have you heard from Emily?"

The smile on Garcia's face slipped a little. "Not really. Hey, what are you doing in the next hour?"

"I have to finish up this report, but afterward, I'm free. Though I do have to pick up Henry," she corrected hastily.

"Wonderful! Tell you what, pick up Henry and meet us at Fuddrucker's. My treat. Say…" she looked at her watch, "…in about 90 minutes."

"I can certainly do that. And you'll let me know what you know about Emily?" JJ asked slyly.

"No getting one past you. I will fill you in. I promise."

"Alright. It's a deal. Bye."

"Bye."

Garcia hung up the phone. Dinner with JJ and Henry, then Saturday with Morgan. And somewhere in there she was going to finagle a way to get JJ and Hotch together for their own Christmas shopping spree.

But there was something she had to do first.


	13. Chapter 13

**One Hello**

"Ambassador Prentiss, speaking," Emily greeted into the telephone receiver.

"Hi, Angel," Pen greeted.

"PG! How wonderful to hear your voice! How are you?"

"I'm doing fine, but I wonder how _you _are. I heard that you got an early holiday visitor and his name isn't Santa Claus."

Em rolled her eyes. "I'm surviving…all things considered."

"That bad?"

"Not really. It's been…trying. He has taken the security detail to a new level. I can't even leave the premise without him shadowing my every move. A lot like someone I know," she said tongue in cheek.

"Angel, I was just so happy to have you back from the dead," Pen defended. "It was like having all my prayers answered and Christmas at the same time!"

"This is different."

"I take it that he knows about Claire?"

"Yes."

"And…?"

Em rubbed her weary forehead with her free hand. "I'm confused and conflicted. I know that they need to have a relationship, but…"

"After the way he did you, you're afraid," Pen finished.

"It's childish," Em admitted.

"It's normal! Come on, Emily, he nearly destroyed you. And in front of everyone who mattered. I don't believe in guns, but that night…" She paused to take a deep breath. "Let's just say it wouldn't have been pretty."

"Well, everything has come back, and my decision and regret are having a bedtime story."

"You're letting them bond?"

Em shrugged. "I don't have much choice. She might look like me, but she is stubborn like him."

"And she hasn't asked?" Pen waited. "Or are you hoping she won't?"

"I can handle it when and if it comes. Right now… I just want to get through the holidays and work on my next post."

"Somewhere warm, I hope," Pen smiled. "Do we have an embassy in Aruba?"

"Somewhere that doesn't have the stench of burning tires would be great. But Pen, I don't think I really get many options as to where I get posted."

"You could get posted in Quantico…" she hinted.

"We don't have an embassy in Quantico."

"No, but we have an academy that really needs a Linguist with your expertise!"

Em shook her head. "That sounds great, but…"

"He wouldn't be there! He's retired from the BAU, and though he does a few classes on interrogation methods, mostly he's touring with his latest book or staying hidden in that cabin of his," Pen rushed on.

"I won't ask how you know this."

"Besides," Pen continued, "you could be near me and JJ, and I can spoil that darling mini-me."

"Tempting." Em picked the pen out of the holder and began tracing on her calendar. "I have this feeling that Hotch has been getting you to dig into what is happening here."

"He was curious," Pen admitted.

"And what you found made you want to call me?"

"Did I ever say how much I hate profilers?"

"Many times. So, what did you find?" Em asked.

"It's not good. You have to get out of there."

"Pen…"

"No, listen. I know that I can get over excited about things and I have no filter when it comes to my family, but this… Emily, there is something going down."

A chill went thru Em. "Like what?"

"I don't know for sure. I had to do something that wasn't exactly law-abiding, and though I couldn't get info from there, I found out that a lot of the people on the south side of the city are coming in from Yemen."

Em frowned. "Yemen? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. I don't know who's funding them, but I have a feeling that something is getting ready to go down. You and Claire need to get out of there! Now!"

"Pen, I have a job and an obligation. I can't just leave," Em argued.

"Yes you can! Don't be like Morgan and try to be a hero; half the time he gets lucky and the other half is because God doesn't want the headache of having him up there around the angels. But you, you're different. And besides, you've already used up a couple of your lives with Doyle.

"Come home," there was a catch in Pen's voice.

"I can't make any promises. If things go bad here, I am going to have to coordinate with helping getting people evacuated."

"I know. I just want you here."

"I want to be there, too," Em admitted. "I want you to do me a favour."

"Anything!"

"If something were to happen to me, I want you to take Claire."

"No."

"No?"

"I mean, I can't do that," Pen amended. "I don't know anything about kids. Besides, what about Rossi?" the words were out before she couldstop them.

"Long story. I just want what's best for her."

"Rossi would be the best thing for her. He is her father. And you said that they get along…"

Em sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. I just want to protect my daughter, and every time I try to work it out, I hit another wall. No one wants her."

"It's nothing against you, Emily, but we're talking the possibility of losing you again, and that scares us. Besides, nothing is going to happen now that Mr. Super FBI Agent Rossi is there to protect you."

"Oh, please."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Have you talked to Morgan?" Em threw back.

Pen laughed softly. "As a matter of fact, he and I are going shopping tomorrow. I might pick up something for my goddaughter. But as for her mother, I'm not so sure if she doesn't come clean with me…"

"Penelope."

"Emily."

The silence was heavy over the line. As the other waited for someone to break the ice.

"Look, I know that he hurt you badly. Nothing can ever excuse the pain he caused all of us, but that is water under the bridge. And you share that precious miracle. Life goes on. You have to clear the air."

"I don't know…"

"You were his sounding board after Caroline. You know him better than anyone. It can't hurt to talk and find out what you need to know. And you need to make a bridge for him and Claire."

Em bit her lip.

"Say you don't, and something happens, they are going to be together anyhow." Pen slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my gosh! Em, I didn't mean that!"

"I know, Pen. No offense taken. This place and the circumstances can make your brain short circuit. Back to Morgan…you two are hanging out?"

"Seems Hotch arranged it. He thinks I need to get out of the lair."

"Ah, good old Hotch. I take it that he is still seeing Beth?"

"Oh goodness no! You didn't hear? No, of course you didn't! They broke up last year. She wanted to move west and wanted him to come along."

"Just like Haley."

"Not quite." Pen looked at her watch. "Hey, I've used the secure line for a little past five minutes; I have to go!"

"I will be on line tomorrow. IM me."

"I will do that! Kiss that mini angel for me!"

"Will do. Take care, Pen."

"Stay safe. Or else."

"Bye."

"Bye, my angel," Pen blew a kiss over the line and hung up.

Em held the receiver for a long minute. Slowly she replaced it on the base. Pen's request rang in her ears.

There was no doubt that she and Dave had to talk. But there was still so much distrust on her side. She didn't want to get hurt, and she didn't want Claire hurt, either.

The clock chimed nine.

Claire would be asleep. Maybe this was the best time to take that leap of faith and talk with Dave.

Standing up, she stretched. She could do this, she told herself. Then she walked to the door of the office.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Thanks to Benjamin-James Hayes for letting me use "The 10 Beautiful Caterpillars".**_

**One Hello**

"…And that left three. One, two, three. Three beautiful caterpillars," Dave read dramatically. "One caterpillar found his reflection in a mirror and stayed there all day. And then that left two. One, two. Two beautiful caterpillars." He showed the page to Claire who was tucked into her bed.

"One caterpillar turned into a magnificent butterfly and flew far, far away. And that left one." He turned the page and carefully adjusted the reading glasses at the end of his nose. "One. One beautiful caterpillar. This caterpillar fell asleep in a bowl of sugar. Here he stayed warm and safe forever and ever. The End."

Dave closed the book and looked at the little girl who stared at him with wide brown eyes.

"That was good. Another, please?" she asked sweetly.

"I think two is quite enough," Dave replied and got up to replace the book on the shelf on the other side of the room. "Now it's time for sleep."

Claire shook her head. "But I'm not tired."

"Well…you still have to get some sleep."

"How can I sleep if I'm not tired?" she challenged.

Dave considered the question. He didn't have an answer. What could he say?

"You could try," he suggested.

Claire closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes. "Still not tired."

Dave sighed. Colouring Christmas pictures and two enthralling stories was not enough to tire out the young child. He considered letting her stay up. Honestly, what could it hurt? He had already missed out on four years; he needed to make up for lost time.

"How many days 'til Christmas?" Claire asked.

"Six days."

"Will you be here?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She pondered her next question. "Mr. Dave…do you know Santa Claus?"

Dave had a flashback to the FBI Christmas party when he played the jolly, old bearer of gifts. "I guess you could say that in a way I do," he replied matter of factly.

"Wow! Do you think he can get me something?"

"I guess it would depend on what you request."

"I want a daddy," she replied simply.

Dave tried not to appear surprised. Giving her words a thought, he expelled his breath in on long stream.

"Well, Claire…" he began carefully. He wasn't sure if Em had covered this with their daughter, and he wasn't sure how to approach a truthful answer. "Have you asked him?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wrote a letter, but I don't know if he got it. The North Pole is really far away."

"That it is," he agreed.

"Have you ever been there?"

"No, but I made it to Alaska, and that's pretty close to the North Pole."

"Did you see reindeer? Did you see Rudolph?" Her eyes grew as round as saucers.

Dave chuckled softly. "I saw some deer, but I'm not sure if they were reindeer."

"Mr. Dave?"

"Yes, Claire?"

"Do you like my mommy?"

"I…like your mommy."

"A lot?"

"I like her," he replied noncommittally.

"Does she like you?"

Dave could feel himself begin to sweat. He was being grilled by a three year old who had inherited the best of two world class profilers, and it was more than a little intimidating that she could read him like a book.

"I think that she…respects me," he finished.

Claire furrowed her eyebrows. "What does 'spect mean?"

"It's like when you have to do something that you don't want to do, but have to anyway." He pulled the covers higher to cover her small shoulders. "Like going to bed when you're not tired." He winked.

"Can I kiss you good-night?" she hesitated, unsure of what to still make of the man who had entered her life. He seemed nice, and he smelled good. Plus he liked to colour and he could read stories with silly voices.

"Sure." Dave leaned over and kissed her forehead. Before he could move away, her small arms wrapped around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"I like you," she whispered in his ear.

Relishing in the moment, Dave blinked back the hot tears. His arms wrapped around her. This was his daughter, his miracle. She was so small, but perfect in his arms. He was holding the product of the love he and Em had once had for one another when he hadn't been such an idiot. How had he managed to let all of that slip away?

But as the scent of the shampoo Claire used filled his nostrils, Dave knew that he was being given a second chance. He needed to get back what he had had before. _This_ was the reason to win Em back.

Pressing another kiss to her temple, Dave pulled back. "I like you, too." He stood up and turned out the light. Automatically the night light triggered and filled the room with a soft yellow glow.

Satisfied by the confession, Claire snuggled deep under the covers. She yawned.

"Mr. Dave?"

Dave turned around from his place at the door. "Yes, Claire?"

"Ask Santa if you can be my daddy, 'kay?"

"We'll see. Good night, Principessa."

"Night," came the tired reply. Dave closed the door softly.

"Is she asleep?" Em whispered.

"Out like a light," Dave confirmed with a nod.

"How many stories?"

"Two."

"You got off easy," she chuckled. "Usually she won't let go until she's conned at least four stories."

"Well, tomorrow night isn't here yet." He watched as Em tried to force a smile. "Do you want a drink?"

She shook her head. "I don't think…"

"I know that Julia has gone to bed, but I think I can still manage to scrounge up something from the pantry." He saw her hesitation and latched on. "I make a mean hot chocolate."

Em sighed. "Sure," she conceded. "Why not?"

Dave gave a gentlemanly gesture. "Ladies first," he invited and stepped aside for her to walk toward the stairs.

"Thanks." Em started to speak, paused, bit her lip. "Uh, Dave…"

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

"We do," he agreed. "But first things first. Let's get that hot chocolate."


	15. Chapter 15

**One Hello**

Dave poured the chocolate into the mugs. Placing the pot back on the stove, he turned and handed a mug to Em. "Careful," he warned. "It's hot."

Sipping carefully, Em let the rich liquid roll over her tongue. "Mmmm, this is good."

"I had to improvise a bit," Dave apologized. He took a seat at the island opposite of Em.

"Whatever you did, it worked." She took another long sip. "You may need to give Julia the recipe."

"If she wants it, I will."

Silence filled the kitchen as the pair drank the sweet, rich treat.

"I heard the phone ring," Dave finally spoke up. "Your mother?"

"It was Pen."

"How is she?"

"Fine. She had some information she wanted to share." Em turned the mug around in her hands.

"Oh?" Dave's eyebrow cocked in interest.

She gave a slight shrug. "She and JJ are going Christmas shopping."

"I see."

"What does that mean?"

"It means what it means."

"Which means…?" she prompted.

"Exactly what it means, Emily." He wrapped his hands around the mug and tried to hold his tongue. "I was just commenting."

"The Dave Rossi I used to know would have implied something else."

"Used to know. I'm not that guy anymore."

"You could have fooled me. Ever since you arrived you've taken control over me and my job," she stated angrily.

"I'm only doing what I have been sent to do. Nothing more."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically.

Dave sighed. "And back to square one," he muttered with a shake of his head. He stood up.

Filled with guilt over her harsh words, Em hurried her apology. "Dave…I'm sorry. Don't leave. Please."

He sighed again. "I'm not going to fight, Em."

"I know." She tried to put her thoughts into words. "It's just… I feel like you're smothering me."

"If I have, it's only because I care," he countered back.

"But I'm used to doing this on my own," she pointed out.

"Then let me take some of it."

"You don't want it. Trust me," her laugh was short and brittle.

"Then talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"It's…it's," she paused and tried to find the correct word to be honest but not let him know that she was losing control over everything. "It's complicated," she finished.

Dave sat back down. Concern was in his eyes as he searched Em's face for the truth. "How complicated?"

"The peace treaty… I hate to sound negative, but I think it made things worse."

He looked flummoxed. "I don't understand. They agreed to peace."

"But there are factions who believe that Jordan sold out. They want the treaty torn up and have things return to what they consider 'normal'."

"Blowing up buses and bombing outdoor café's is not what I consider 'normal'," Dave snorted in disgust.

"They live for one thing -"

"Jihad."

"Exactly."

"What kind of support are you getting from Washington?" Dave asked.

She shrugged. "The usual politics. I hit brick walls and when I do get to talk to someone, they tell me that from their end, everything appears to be normal. I'm getting the impression that they think I'm not trying hard enough."

"I've seen you work, Em, and you're trying too hard, if you want my opinion." He leaned closer. He took in the black circles under her eyes and the weariness in her features. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," she sputtered. "That's really encouraging."

"I didn't mean it like that," he argued. "I've been here almost a week and I've seen how you've been busting your ass while there are insurgents near the city border trying to cause trouble. Then you come home and try to be a parent and not scare Claire."

"I feel like it's one step back for every two steps forward. I really want to get her out of here."

"I know."

"She's so little…" Em buried her face in her hands. "What was I thinking by taking these orders? I hate politics."

Dave wanted to say that he was sorry for screwing up and making it impossible for her to stay at the BAU. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for turning his back on her when she needed him the most. But there was nothing he could say that would change the past. So he remained silent.

"I wanted to run. I thought that changing the scenery and the people around me would make things better. I thought I could make a difference. But now," she sighed, "I wonder what the hell I was doing. And Claire…" Em ran her hands thru her hair and raised her head. Tears brimmed in her large brown eyes.

"She's going to be okay," Dave reassured softly. He reached out and touched her hand. When she didn't pull away, he opened his hand to cover hers.

"I don't know. Hotch had Pen research what is happening here."

"What did she say?"

"She's sending me the information. But she was adamant that I get out of here."

"Maybe she has the right idea."

Em lifted her mug and drained the rest of the chocolate which had now grown cold. Standing up, she walked over to the sink.

"I need to try harder," she vowed.

Dave turned around on the chair. "You need to try _harder_?!" he repeated incredulously.

"There has to be something I can do."

"Take Pen's advice and get out of here. These people are willing to die for their cause."

Em slowly rinsed the mug. "My mother succeeded at every one of her posts. If I run without trying…"

"You won't be a failure, Em. Sometimes you can't win. We learned that at the BAU," Dave recapped. "Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. You can't change a killer's heart."

"But you can anticipate his next move and cut him off. You can change the game."

"Rarely. If you're willing to sacrifice something. Hotch made that mistake. I made that mistake. But this…this is totally different. These people aren't serial killers."

"I know that, Dave. I see it every time I look in their eyes. I have to try." She placed the mug in the drainer and turned off the water.

Silently, Dave got up and walked behind Em. She gasped when she turned around and found herself face to face with him.

"Why?" he demanded. He gripped her shoulders.

"Why, what?"

"Why are you willing to try and win?"

Her eyes held his. "Because I have to." She went to move away, but he held tight. "You can let me go."

"I can't. This…you… Em…"

"Dave, don't."

"There is still something between us. I know you can feel it." He brushed a lock of hair from Em's face with his index finger.

"What we had is over."

"Had, Em. Past tense. This is new. You and me. This is a brand new start. We have a child…" Softly he stroked her cheek. Em closed her eyes. "A beautiful, intelligent, remarkable child. We have the chance for a brand new start."

"Dave…" she whispered. Her heart raced when she opened her eyes and saw something inexplicable in his dark brown eyes. "I don't think…"

"Stop thinking, Em," he growled. "You think all day. Relax. Let go." He dipped his head and covered her mouth with his. For a brief second he felt her tense, but as he moved his lips over hers, she began to relax. He heard her moan softly and wrapped his arms around her as his tongue traced the seam of her lips.

"Let me in," he murmured against her mouth.

With another groan, Em opened up and let him in. He tasted of sugar cookies and chocolate and Old Spice. His embrace was comforting and protective - she could stay like this forever. And when their tongues touched… Her knees went weak from the jolt of electricity!

Dave felt it too! Tightening his embrace, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. After four years, Emily Prentiss was finally back in his arms. His mind rejoiced while his body throbbed from need. He wanted her. He needed to feel every single inch of her as he made love to her.

But he couldn't. What they were sharing was too fragile to push to another level. He needed to get her to trust and believe in him again. If he took it further, she could run. Then he would lose her forever. And Claire, too.

Coming up for air, Dave buried his face in Em's hair and tried to get his breathing under control. Em's arms were wrapped around his waist.

"Em…" he whispered and kissed her neck.

"Wow!" she whispered back. Feeling the sensations he was creating against her skin, she tilted her head back to give him better access.

Dave pulled back. "Do you trust me?"

"I…I think so," she admitted breathlessly.

"That's a start." He kissed her hard and fast. "I need to turn in and you need to check on Claire."

"I know. I have to meet with the British Ambassador again. And the King, too," she said, but she didn't move from Dave's embrace. She breathed in his scent. For a moment it seemed like old times. Back when… She shook her head to clear it.

Dropping her arms from his waist, Em pulled back. "I have to go." Reluctantly, Dave loosed his hold and stepped back to give her space. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm going to call Hotch," he said.

"Okay. Goodnight, Dave."

"Goodnight, Em."

He watched as she pushed open the door and exited the kitchen. He had gotten his foot in, now he had to bide his time. He was going to prove to her that he had changed and there was a future.

But as he mulled over the moment, that inexplicable fear filled him, again. He needed to figure out his next move before something bad happened.

Rinsing his mug, Dave turned out the light and left the kitchen.


	16. Chapter 16

**One Hello**

"Your Highness," the British Ambassador stood up and addressed the King of Jordan, "I have been hearing rumours that there is going to be an uprising."

Nonplussed, the king gave the older man a hard look. "Where did you hear that?"

"I have my sources."

"Perhaps they lied."

"I doubt that, your Highness. My intelligence is pretty reliable…"

The king waved his hand dismissively. "Intelligence can be warped to serve a purpose. And who is to say that it hasn't been manipulated to suit an agenda?"

"I disagree. The intelligence is…"

"And I have to disagree with you. There is unrest, I cannot deny that, but I am not going to give into rumours and hearsay. To do so would give credence to those who want to disrupt and put me in a bad light."

"You can't say that you haven't seen the fires," the French Ambassador interrupted.

"I have seen them," the king nodded. "And I will deal with them."

"How?"

"I have my ways."

"Coming down on the protestors could cause them to retaliate."

"I disagree." The king looked over at Em. "Ambassador Prentiss, you have something to add?"

"Your Highness, I have seen the beginnings of unrest in the outskirts of the city, and I know that there are people who would do anything to overthrow you. You must do what you will to prevent anarchy. The United States is prepared to stand behind you…"

"I suspect that there are strings attached to that promise."

"We are afraid that you may use means…that we would not approve of to suppress the protesters," Em replied.

"What would it matter to the United States if I use force to suppress those who want to overthrow me?"

"I would go against the agreement we have," she reminded him succinctly. "Also, it may put your government in a bad light."

"I appreciate your concern, but I will not allow insurgents to corrupt my country," the king replied evenly. "After the way your government has appreciated Israel, I am not so sure I want that appreciation."

"Your Highness," Em said, "if there was an uprising, what would or could you do to prevent weapons from flowing in over the borders? Many lives could be in jeopardy."

"I am keeping tabs on everything crossing the border."

Em pulled the envelope out of her briefcase. "Your Highness, you may be aware that I used to work at the FBI. My former co-workers have forwarded me information about the possible infiltration of Al Qaeda cells on the outskirts of the city."

The king nodded toward one of his security members. "Bring that to me," he commanded.

"How reliable is your intelligence?" he asked when the packet was handed to him.

"Very reliable. I would trust these people with my life."

"That is good to hear. It is good to have people that you can trust."

"Your Highness," the British Ambassador spoke up. "What if Al Qaeda does manage to infiltrate and set up here? What if they attack?"

"My army is standing by and waiting."

"Will they be able to help us evacuate?"

"My army is prepared to do everything in its power to protect all citizens of Jordan."

"I -"

"My word is final. I do have other meetings I must attend, so this discussion is adjourned." The king stood up. Immediately the three ambassadors rose to their feet and stayed silent until he exited the room.

Letting out a heavy sigh, the British Ambassador shook his head. "Incredible. No matter what title they hold, they are still politicians."

"Brownlee, are you surprised?" Em muttered as she threw the papers into her briefcase.

"Not really. Not really. What was in that folder?"

"Not good news."

"Are we privy to it?" he wondered.

"I have two more copies heading here by tomorrow morning. I thought it would be more beneficial if he saw it first. Besides, you know that I would have to get permission from the State Department to forward that to you."

"Bloody going to have us killed! Tell me that they see this on the news!" Brownlee bit out.

"I don't know."

"Media in the bloody politicians' pockets."

"It's the same everywhere," Em concurred. "Oh God, I can't wait for a new post."

"Me neither."

"I am stuck here for another year," the French Ambassador stated tonelessly.

"I need to go home and put the tree up," Em said. "By then I should be able to contact someone in the State Department who can give me a straight answer. Then I have to contact the Israeli Prime Minister."

"Perhaps Mossad knows something?"

"I wouldn't doubt it; they have fingers in pies we don't even know about."

"Best that way."

"As long as they know a way to help us evacuate if the need arises, I don't care."

"Are we on for lunch tomorrow?" Brownlee inquired.

"We are. Noon?"

"Yes."

"Jean-Luc?"

"I will be there."

Em nodded toward the pair. "Gentlemen."

"Emily." They nodded back.

Quick stepping out of the lavish office, Em hurried down the hallways to the foyer. Retrieving her wraps, she donned them. A quick farewell to the servant at the door and she was outside on the porch. Within seconds the armour plated car pulled up.

Settling inside, Em closed the door and rested her head back.

"You look exhausted," Dave commented.

"I can't believe you waited," she remarked.

"I said I would. Besides, I am guarding you. This is my job." He watched the emotions cross her face. "What's really bothering you?"

Em lifted her head. "I wish you hadn't kissed me last night."

"I'm not sorry. But you kissed me back, Em," he pointed out.

"It's going to complicate things."

"Only if we want them complicated. Look, Em, we have always had something. I can't shake that we need a second chance to make things right."

"Because of Claire."

"If that was the one thing that could change your mind and make you see that…"

"Dave," she interrupted, "we had something. It didn't work. Sometimes there are no second chances."

"If there can be peace between two countries, there can be a second chance for us. That kiss let me know that there is a chance. Even if it is a remote one."

"I don't know. I have a lot on my mind."

Dave started to reply, then stopped. He would pursue this later. Right now he had to find out what was happening with the possible uprising.

"What did the king say to the information you gave him?"

Em shrugged. "He took it and promised to look over it. He doesn't think that there will be trouble."

"Has he looked at the city, lately?" Dave said with just a hint of anger.

"I don't know. He says that he can squash any uprising." She sighed. "This isn't going to end well."

"Have some faith."

"It's all I have left," she murmured.

Dave took her hand and held it tightly. "You still have me."

Em looked into his eyes. "Dave -"

"Let me prove myself."

Slowly the car made its way past the sentry and down the short lane toward the main living quarters. Pulling to a stop, the driver turned off the engine. Em opened the door and stepped out.

"I have phone calls to make," she announced. "I will see you and Claire at lunch."

"Em. Don't go. We need to talk."

"We'll talk later." With that, she spun on her heel and walked away.

At least Dave could comfort himself with that. Pulling his cell out, he dialed a number.

"Agent Edwards? Dave Rossi. I have that update for you."


	17. Chapter 17

**One Hello**

Settled in her tastefully decorated office, Em dialed a number from memory and waited for the line to connect. In the mean time, she picked up the pen and began doodling on the pad beside her elbow.

"Charles Keifer," the voice greeted on the other end when the ringing stopped.

"Charles, it's Emily Prentiss," she introduced herself as her carriage became erect.

"Emily! It's good to hear from you!"

"Did I wake you?" She looked at the clock and mentally calculated the time difference.

"No. No," he replied hastily. "I was just finishing up some paperwork for tomorrow's briefing with the President. How are you? Working hard?"

Em bristled at the question. "I am well. I had the meeting with the king today."

"How did that go?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Depends on how you define 'not good'. He is going to rule his country the way he sees fit - regardless of how the United States feels about oppression."

"Did you remind him that the administration frowns down on that particular behaviour?"

"Charles, I don't think he really cares what we or the president thinks. He has a country and people to protect. If this thing continues to blow up, he may be too late to do something." She tried not to go on defense, so she counted to ten.

"What are you asking me to do, Emily?" the impatient question came out on a heavy sigh.

"Get me the hell out of here!" she exclaimed.

"I can't."

"Oh, the hell you can't! I am an American caught in the middle of what maybe a civil uprising. You can get me and everyone else out!"

"These things take time…" he deferred.

"Get a carrier," Em ordered, "park it off the coast, then let us board it so we can come home. It's not that hard, Charles."

"It's harder than you think. There is paperwork and red tape. Do you know how many levels of security I will have to go thru to even contemplate an evacuation plan that involves the military?"

"You're the Secretary of State, Charles, think of something. I've seen heaven and earth be moved for countries that have been hit by a typhoon or tsunami. How is this different?"

Charles considered his words carefully. "I will have to talk with the Secretary of the Navy. Then we'll have to coordinate and plan an evacuation..." he continued.

"The king is ready to lay down martial law if this gets out of hand. And if he does that, it _will_ get out of hand. By that time, it may be too late," Em interrupted and hoped her desperation didn't sound like pleading.

"I doubt that he will do anything of the sort," Charles placated her as one would a temperamental child. "We have an agreement."

"An agreement doesn't mean much if people are willing to kill and overthrow your government. He didn't want to negotiate on that when I brought it up."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted to know if we were going to stand behind him."

"And you told him?" Charles prompted.

"I told him that we could not stand behind a regime that would use lethal force to crack down on insurgents."

"And he understood, I assume."

"The only thing he understood was that if we don't back him, he will go it alone."

Charles heaved a heavy sigh. "I am going to have to report this to the president in the morning. How soon can you get me a report on your meeting?"

"I can write it up and fax it to you. But, Charles, you have to do something; too many innocent lives are in jeopardy."

"I will do all that I can; you have my promise. But before I can do anything, I will need that report."

Em shook her head. "You'll get it. What should I tell everyone?"

"That we are working on it."

"It's five days before Christmas," she reminded him.

"Which is why you have to have patience," he told her firmly. "I will do what I can, here. Meanwhile, you do everything you can to ensure peace there."

"Charles…"

"You have my word, Emily. I will talk to you later." He disconnected before Em could reply.

Exasperated, Em hung up the receiver and ran a hand over her eyes. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't show weakness. Not now. Not ever. But everything was falling apart faster than she imagined, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Lives were in jeopardy, and she was responsible for every one - American or not.

Turning her chair to face the large bay window, she looked out at the lush garden and swimming pool. Memories of better times flashed thru her memory.

"This job sucks," she muttered but her tone held more sorrow than bitterness.  
*******

Dave sniffed the air appreciatively. "Mmmm, that smells good," he remarked and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"I hope you like it," Julia replied with a smile.

"I'm sure I will." He laid a serviette in his lap.

Claire came running in. "Is it time to eat?"

"Almost. Did you wash your hands?" Julia asked.

"I did! All clean!" She held her little hands up for the adults to inspect. Dave looked closely.

"Looks pretty clean to me," he observed.

Claire sniffed the air. "Is it done?"

"My, aren't we impatient," Julia gave a soft laugh.

"I need my energy!"

"Ah!" Julia finished stirring and set the spoon aside. Reaching for the ladle, she scooped the soup into the bowls.

"Here you go." She set the dish in front of Dave. "Hope you like vegetable soup."

"I do. Thanks." Dave picked up his spoon. Taking a bite, he made a face. Politely, he swallowed, then began fishing out the offensive item. One by one, he laid them on the napkin.

"Is everything alright?" Julia wondered.

"Yes. It's delicious," he replied.

"Mr. Dave doesn't like lima beans," Claire piped up. Both adults looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know that?" Dave asked carefully.

"Ray told me," she replied with a shrug and began eating her sandwich.

"Sweetie, who's Ray?" Julia's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"My friend. He knows Mr. Dave."

"And he told you that I don't like lima beans?"

"Yep," she answered between chewing.

"And you've…talked to him?"

"Yep. All the time!"

"Where?"

"My bedroom," she gave an overdramatic sigh.

Dave and Julia looked at one another with concern.

"Claire, listen to me," Dave said and leaned forward, "how does Ray get into your room? Do you let him?"

"I don't 'let him'; he's an angel."

Unable to come up with a response, Julia wiped her hands on her apron. "I just noticed that the Ambassador hasn't shown up. I'll go see what's keeping her," she made her excuse and departed the room.

Dave absorbed Claire's statement. _Ray?_ Was it possible that his friend and Claire's angel were one and the same? And if so, why? Why would he make himself known to a little girl who couldn't know that her father had been responsible for friend's death?

"Claire, did Ray tell you anything else?"

"No. He likes tea. Are you going to tell Mommy?"

Dave shook his head. "No. Mommy has enough to worry about." He covered Claire's hand with his. "We'll keep this between us…for now. Okay?"

"Deal schmeal," she replied and held up her thumb.

Realizing what she meant, Dave touched his thumb to hers. "Deal."

While Claire finished her lunch, Dave's mind tried to find a logical explanation to what had just transpired.


	18. Chapter 18

_It's a little out of synch, but this is what the characters dictated. I guess it all works in the end._

**One Hello**

"Who do you know in the State Department with the power to get someone out of a country?" Pen asked seriously.

Taken aback by the sudden question, JJ hurried to swallow before replying, "A couple of people. Why?"

"I think we may need them."

"What's going on?" JJ's eyes were wide with fear. The Saturday morning Christmas shopping had gone well, but she could sense that there was something on her best friend's mind. She had wondered when Pen was going to open up, and now, in the middle of lunch at the Olive Garden, she had.

Pen looked around nervously before lowering her voice. "What have you heard about what's happening in Jordan?"

"Jordan? Wait! Isn't that where Emily's stationed?!"

Pen nodded. "Yeah."

"I've heard that there are rumblings of unrest, but nothing more. Why? What do you know?"

"It's not good. Hotch had me look up some of the people camped out in the far sections of the city…they are bad." Pen reached for a breadstick, broke off a piece, then popped it in her mouth. "Really bad."

"Al Qaeda?"

"Yeah. And factions of other groups."

"What do they want?" JJ whispered.

"Whatever it is, I can assure you that it isn't peace."

"And Emily is in the middle of this?"

"Smack dab. But Rossi is there to help," Pen supplied with a wistful smile.

JJ's mouth dropped open in surprise. "David Rossi is over in Jordan?! What?! Why?"

"Seems the twice retired G-Man was recruited by the CIA. For what, I don't know, but whatever it is, it won't end well…and I don't mean the unrest," Pen finished tongue in cheek.

"I take it he knows."

"He does. And they are bonding. Unfortunately, Emily hasn't told Mini-Me the truth."

JJ shook her head. "I can see her point of view, but at the same time… Rossi has the right to know about his daughter…and she to know her dad. Despite all the crap Will put me thru a couple of years ago with the divorce, I still let him bond with Henry."

"But Will didn't do what Rossi did," Pen defended.

JJ snorted. "The hell he didn't! He badmouthed me in front of Henry so badly, that Henry came to me and wanted to know why I would choose other people's kids over him. Needless to say that a prized vase bit the dust that day."

"You never told me! Jayje!"

"What could you have done? Wiped out his credit rating? Make him disappear in the virtual world? We sorted it out. Now we're at the comfortable spot divorced couples meet at when everything else has failed." JJ sipped her drink. "We can be civil around our son, and that is what matters."

"And to think I bought him a Christmas present," Pen groused.

JJ shrugged. "Give it to him. Or don't. It's your choice. But he and I are cool." Their food arrived. For a few minutes the two woman dug in with gusto.

Replenished, JJ leaned back in her chair. "Now tell me what's going on and why you need my contacts at the State Department."

Pen rushed on with what she knew and the information she had uncovered. "…and I know that if the CIA has to pair two former lovers together, it has to be a pretty bad situation."

"Who is the point of contact for Rossi?" JJ pulled her Franklin Planner out and clicked her pen.

"Um…Agent Edwards…Matt Edwards."

JJ wrote down the name. "He sounds familiar. Anyone else?"

Pen tried to recall all the names that had rushed past her as she delved into the world of counter-terrorism and terror cells.

"Charles… What is his name?! Charles…" She snapped her fingers impatiently. "What's the name of that cute actor on '24'?"

"Keifer Sutherland?"

"That's it!" She exclaimed. "Charles Keifer!"

JJ stopped writing. "Charles Keifer?! Tell me that I heard wrong."

"You know him?"

"A weasel…and that is being kind. He's part of the reason I requested a transfer back to the BAU." JJ closed the book. "His motto is to look out for number one: himself. And don't think you'll get a straight answer out of him." She snorted sarcastically. "He is total CYA." She took a long sip of her cold drink to calm her nerves.

"And our Emily is over there."

"Maybe nothing will happen…"

"Let's see: Tehran in '79, Beirut in '83, Kohbar Towers in '96, Kenya Embassy in '98..."

JJ held up her hands. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I get it. It's bad. You don't have to remind me. I saw things during those short few months at the State Department that I hope to forget."

"So have I. Needless to say, Hotch is not getting a present from me this year." Pen sighed. "So, what do we do now?'

"I suspect that you have everything on disc?"

"You suspect correctly, my buttercup." Pen reached for her large bag and dug carefully for the disc. "Here you go!"

JJ took the package. "I may know someone who knows someone who might be able to help. There is that point of contact in the Israeli government. He owes me one."

"Really?" Pen's eyes danced with mischief. "What's his name?"

"Pen… It's not like that," JJ rolled her eyes.

"Is he cute?" she pressed.

"Oh, okay. His name is Jacob and he is….attractive - for a man in his forties."

"Oooo! Going for the older, mature, male species. My girl is learning."

"Lesson hard learned."

"I am assuming that I will be able to meet him?"

"Eventually," JJ replied noncommittally.

"So…you left Henry at home," Pen observed. "I take it that this shopping trip revolves around him?"

"Correct. I may even let Auntie Pen pick out that one gift that would make Santa green with jealousy."

Pen clapped her hands together. "I know what I'm buying my little guy."

"It still has to be reasonable." JJ checked her watch. "Let's get out of here while we still can." She opened her wallet and pulled out her credit card.

"Jayje?"

"Yeah?"

"We are going to get Emily and Rossi home? Right?" Her big brown eyes pleaded for reassurance.

JJ laid her hand over Pen's and gave it a squeeze. "We are."

"Alive?"

Unable to speak, JJ only nodded.  
********

Em plopped herself down on the couch. "She finally went down for a nap."

Dave looked amused. "How many books?"

"Three," she groaned. "It would have been four, but she fell asleep while I was choosing."

"Looks like you're the one who should be napping." Dave took off his glasses and laid the notepad down.

"I'm fine. I just need a moment."

"What was your phone call about?"

"Nothing."

"Em… I'm in this with you. Be honest with me. Please."

"Honestly, it was nothing. It's the same old bullshit song to a different tune."

Dave moved in closer. "That bad?"

"I can handle getting in the car and driving to Jerusalem or Tel Aviv in a moment's notice, but there are other lives I have to consider," she replied.

"Are they going to send help?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. It seems they have to cut thru the bureaucratic 'red tape'…"

"Which means we 'stand-by to stand-by'," Dave finished. He caught Em's perplexed look. "It's a military saying that means 'you're here until further notice…or until hell freezes over' - whatever comes first. Usually it's hell freezing over."

"Next time I talk to the State Department, I'll let them know it's bloody cold down here in hell."

"Unless the inmates go wild at the asylum - then we might be roasting and toasting."

"Not funny, Dave." Em laid her head back and closed her eyes. "How was lunch?"

"Good. By the way, did you tell Claire that I don't like lima beans?"

Em tilted her head to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"She knows that I don't like them."

"Honestly, Dave, I didn't know until now that you didn't like them."

"You're kidding me! We've known each other for five years…"

Em shrugged. "It never crossed my mind to ask. So, you don't like them Big deal. Why the need to know?"

"She knows. I figured…" He exhaled heavily. "Forget about it." He picked up the folder. "I read what Garcia sent; she's thorough."

"She is."

"We might have a chance to avoid catastrophe. God willing."

"Yeah." Em tried not to think about the alternative.

Dave laid a hand on her slim shoulder. "Em…" She was so thin. And so…scared. He wanted to reach out and draw her into his arms and hold her until he could make things right. He wanted to whisk her away to someplace safe where she didn't have to worry about terror cells and DC politics.

Instead, he tried to transfer his strength to her thru touch.

"What?"

"What's on your mind?"

Em weighed her words. She wanted to tell him that she was scared and frightened - even more than she had been with Doyle. She wanted to tell him that there was that part of her that could never forgive him for tearing her apart and throwing their love away. But there was another part that was trusting him. She wanted to hold on to that for dear life. But she was afraid.

She turned her head and opened her eyes. She couldn't tell him exactly what was on her mind, so she told him what might take his mind off of her worries.

"I'm thinking we should tell Claire you're her father."


	19. Chapter 19

**One Hello**

"That's a big leap you're taking," Dave replied after he had let Em's words sink in.

"She has the right to know. Besides, you never know what might happen."

Dave's eyes hardened. "Nothing is going to happen. I won't let anything happen to you or Claire or any other person who needs to be defended from evil."

Em's smile was weak and full of mirth. "That's a good theory on paper. Have you seen what's out there? They are getting arms from terrorists. We don't stand much of a chance if they attack."

"True. But I have seen the weapons our guards have, and I have no doubt that we can hold off anyone who makes it over the wall." He reached for her hand and held it. Em could feel the heat from his touch warm her skin. And she found herself liking it.

"Tehran embassy," she reminded with a sardonic snort of a laugh.

"I was there, Em, I remember that quite clearly. There was a breakdown of communication between the embassy staff and the White House…."

"That's what we have now, Dave," she stated. "And no one gives a damn."

"I do. You do. I'm sure that our allies give a damn, too."

"That's not good enough. What are we going to do, if and when this all goes to hell?" She shook her head and tried not to imagine the answer.

"What would your mother do?" Dave asked.

Em looked at him in bewilderment and surprise. "That's not funny."

"No, it isn't," he agreed. "But it's a legitimate question. You followed in your mother's famous footsteps, now the weight of a country and diplomacy rests on your shoulders. It's a pretty fair question to ask."

"My mother wouldn't turn tail and run," she admitted. "She would stay and try to bring some kind of peace. That's what I should do."

"True," he nodded. "But then again, I can't recall when your mother was in the center of an uprising where the militants were carrying RPGs."

Em rubbed her throbbing temple. "I'm just confused and tired. And Charles Keifer isn't helping matters."

"I met him once. Didn't like him."

"Well, regardless of what you think, he is my boss."

"He sucks at his job. Just wanted to point that out."

"Thanks."

"So, what is his plan for you? Us?"

"Nothing at the moment," she admitted. "He has to run some ideas past the SecNav and the president. Then he'll let me know."

"He is going to send back up for added protection, I hope."

Em shrugged. "He didn't say. He just wanted an update on the situation here."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

Dave shook his head. "Just making an observation."

"It's a good one. Even without saying anything, you hit the nail on the head." She let out a heavy sigh.

"It's talent."

"That's what you call it. Ever arrogant," she muttered.

"Changing the subject, here." Dave let his thumb run over the back of Em's hand, creating little circles. "If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?"

"That's easy," she replied quickly. "I would be in DC with Pen and JJ. We would be shopping right about now, and then have take-out and wine at PG's while watching sappy Christmas movies." She smiled at the image. "Then we'd decorate her lopsided Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and try to sing Christmas songs."

"Charlie Brown Christmas tree?" Dave asked. His eyebrows were raised high in incredulity.

"Tell me you've seen the movie."

"A long time ago."

"Charlie Brown bought this tiny, pathetic tree for the Christmas pageant. And the kids made fun of it. But he had faith in it. So, he decorated it and thought he killed it. But, in the end…love brought it back to life and made it more beautiful than all the other trees. And that's what Pen did. She found a tree at the resale store and took it home. It's the most beautiful tree you can imagine."

"Do you think she still has it?"

"When you've invested that much time and energy and love into something, you cherish and keep it forever," Em pointed out matter of factly.

"Very true."

Em noticed that Dave's thumb had moved to her wrist. "Dave, what are you doing?"

"Just touching you. Want me to stop?"

"It's nice," she admitted.

"What if I said I wanted to kiss you again?" he asked carefully.

"I would say…why?"

"Why not?"

"Why do I get the feeling that you are trying to win me back?" Her gaze was questioning as her eyes probed his for the truth of his feelings and intentions. Four years out of the field had not lessened her profiling skills. And now that she was sitting next to one of the father's of modern day profiling, she hoped that she had acquired enough to see thru him.

"I do want you back," he confessed. "I think that we made a great couple and a better team when we were together. I screwed up. I was beyond stupid. I can't change that. What I want is to start over with you and Claire."

"Dave, I don't think…"

He pressed his index finger over her lips. "Have you given it any thought? Really?"

"I…" Em tried to argue a case against his, but as the memory of his kiss and being in his arms flashed in her memory, her blood ran hot. "I've been busy."

"We have a second chance. Let's take it."

"Dave…I think I know… No, I do know what you want. I can't let you ease your conscience by pretending that you and I will work this-"

"I'm not pretending anything, Em. I still love you."

Em shook her head. "Dave. Don't."

"I won't lie. I love you. I have spent the last four years trying to figure out how I could run into you again. And now fate has arranged for us to be here."

"You don't believe in fate."

"I don't believe that a person can choose their fate," he corrected. "You can get on a road to destruction or careen down the highway to hell, but in the end, what happens is totally out of your hands. Like this."

"Like that night?" Em's voice quavered with emotion. The pain in her heart was still raw enough to hurt when she remembered how everything she treasured was destroyed in less than a minute.

"I tried to let other people dictate my fate. Look what it brought me. I lost my mother. I lost you. I lost my child. I believe this is my second chance." His hand stroked her cheek. "Things happen for a reason, and that is why I'm here. I think God is giving us a do over."

"How can I be sure that you aren't going to lose your mind again and do something worse?" she wondered.

"Because I'm giving you my word. I would lay my life down for you." He moved in close to press his body next to hers. He could feel the heat between them. Her perfume weaved around him. "Kiss me."

"Dave," she whispered.

"Emily," he returned. "If you doubt whether my feelings for you are real, then kiss me." He pushed a lock of her long black hair behind her ear. "Unless you're afraid," he challenged.

Giving in, she pressed her lips to his and felt that shock of electricity course thru her body. She had wanted to believe the other night was just a fluke. But now, here with his mouth moving against hers, she knew that it was real.

"See," Dave breathed against her skin, "we still have it."

"It won't work," she panted. "It can't. Not after everything."

"Kiss me again," he growled.

This time when their lips met, there was no hesitation. Hungrily they devoured each other as the kisses deepened and lasted. Dave cupped Em's breast and kneaded it slowly and felt the nipple harden under his ministrations. Letting out a low moan of pleasure, Em arched into his palm. Four years, and he had not lost his touch.

"Dave," she whispered. Her body wanted him. Desire raced thru her as she tried not to throw herself at him. But the ache kept building.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. She wanted him - he could feel it. He wanted her, too. But it all came down to what she said. He would never push her.

"I don't know," she breathed. "I think we're rushing this."

"I understand." Dave looked at his watch. "It's getting late. Don't you have a luncheon tomorrow?"

"I do," she tried to conceal her disappointment by arranging her blouse.

"I'm going with you."

"Okay."

"What? No argument?" he asked with mock sarcasm.

"No. Actually, I was going to ask you to tag along."

"Tag along?"

"You know what I mean." Em stood up. "You want to walk me to my room? Make sure I get there safe and sound?" She extended her hand to him.

"Don't mind if I do." Dave took her hand and pulled himself to his feet. Leaning over, he clicked the lamp off. The room went dark - except for the white light from the sunlight that streamed thru the windows lining the wall behind the staircase. "When do you want to tell her?"

"Tonight. Make it an early Christmas present. I think she'll like that."

"I hope she does."

Laughing softly, Em tightened her hold on Dave's hand. "She will."

Dave stopped and looked at her.

"What?" she was confused by his look.

"I was just thinking about how beautiful you look right now. Bathed in sunlight," he tried to put his thoughts into words, but he failed. Something had changed between them, he could feel it. He wondered if she could. "You look tired. You need a nap."

She blushed. "Thanks."

"Let's get you to bed." Together, they made their way up the stairs.


	20. Chapter 20

**One Hello**

"Claire?" Dave called as he walked into the living room. The little girl was bent over her colouring book, intently working on a project. She barely acknowledged her name being called.

"Claire?"

"Uh huh?" She didn't look up.

"Could your mother and I talk to you for a moment?" Dave stood beside his daughter.

Claire looked up. Something on the adults' faces indicated that whatever they needed to say was important enough to interrupt her project.

"Okay." She set the crayon down on the table. "Am I in trouble?" Her lower lip trembled.

"No. No." Dave sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. "Come and sit down"

Claire cast a wary glance at her mother. Em nodded her approval and sat down opposite of Dave. "It's okay."

Settling in, the little girl watched Dave's expression as he took her hand in his.

"There is something that I need to tell you. Remember when you asked me to ask Santa to bring you a daddy?" Dave asked. She nodded. "I…" He tried to put his thoughts into coherent words. He didn't want to burden her with the sins of the parents.

"What Dave is trying to say is…" Em interjected.

"I am your daddy," he finished.

Claire didn't blink. She just stared at the man whose confession confused her. "I don't understand," she remarked.

Dave looked helplessly at Em. He wanted to blurt out everything that had happened and what had led up to him not being part of her life, but he couldn't put that on the shoulders of a three year old. How could he explain and make her understand? How could he let her know that he loved her and never meant to hurt her without her growing up to be a serial killer?

"What don't you understand?" Em inquired gently.

"How can Mr. Dave be my daddy when I didn't even know him?"

"You know him now."

"Where was he? I don't remember him. I don't even have a picture."

"He -" Em wracked her brain for a plausible excuse for Dave not being active in their daughter's life. But everything seemed trite or a lie.

"I was working to get the bad guys," Dave quickly supplied.

Claire's eyes opened wide. "Did you get them?" she breathed. Somehow that seemed exciting.

He nodded. "I got some of them."

"That's why you couldn't be with me and Mommy?"

"I'm here now. And I'm not going to leave you or your mom again."

"Do you love me?" she wondered.

"I do," Dave affirmed. He went to pull her into a hug, but she pulled back. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She considered everything in a way only a three year old could. "I have to think about it," she finally announced. "Can I colour?"

Taken aback by her nonchalant attitude, Dave nodded. "Sure." He stood up. "Your mom and I are going to the kitchen to talk, okay?"

Sitting back down on the floor, Claire picked up her crayon and went back to her picture. Her shrug was the only response. She barely noticed as her parents walked out of the room.

Dave waited for the kitchen door to close. "I don't think she took the news well."

"I think she took it as well as could be expected," Em contradicted.

"She hates me."

"She's three and a half, Dave; she doesn't 'hate'. She's confused. We did drop a bombshell on her."

"I don't think she's happy."

"Why would you say that?"

"She seemed distant."

"Because she wouldn't let you hug her? It's normal."

"She could be pushing me away."

"She likes to think things through. It's in her nature."

"What if she doesn't?" Dave couldn't begin to fathom the idea that his daughter may not want anything to do with him. Had all of his sins come back to haunt? Was her denial of him the final straw?

"She's three, Dave," Em argued. "She's not going to be scarred, but she's going to need time. She'll come around if we give her time and space."

He wanted to believe. He _had_ to believe.

"What's really bothering you?" Em asked.

"I failed her," he confessed.

"You didn't fail her. We both did things that brought us to this point. She'll be okay. Trust me." Em sighed and rubbed her neck to help relieve the tension. "Did you mean it? What you said about never leaving us?"

"I did…that is if you'll have me." Dave took her hands in his and held tight. "I won't leave you again. Trust _me_."

"I want to believe you, Dave. Believe me, I do, but it's going to take time for me to put full faith in you."

"I'm willing to do what ever it takes."

"I know."

There was a soft rap on the door before it was eased open. Julia poked her head in and looked apprehensively at the pair. "Ambassador?"

"Yes, Julia."

The older woman stepped into the kitchen. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but your driver is ready to leave for the luncheon."

Em smiled at her housekeeper. "I almost forgot. Thank you. Tell him I'll be there in five minutes."

"As you wish." Julia cast a wary glance at Dave before closing the door.

"I have to get ready."

"I'm going with you."

"Dave… I think it might be better if you stay here with Claire and try to bond with her."

"I can bond with her later. You did say that she needs space. But you are going out into a city with unrest, and I am going to protect you."

"I'm just going to the British embassy."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Emily. I'm going with you."

The use of her full name was enough to stop Em's retort. There was going to be no arguing and winning. "Okay," she conceded. "I need to grab a couple of things."

"I'll meet you at the car." Dave leaned down and kissed her quickly, then left the room.

Touching her lips, Em felt a blush warm her cheeks. Shaking her head, she pulled herself together and headed to her room to finish getting ready.  
********

Em settled into the back seat of the armored car, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

"Thank God that's finally over," she murmured.

"That bad?" Dave asked.

"I've been to better luncheons," she said. "I hate politics."

"I think it comes with the territory," his lips curved in a quirky grin.

"I just want to get back home and take a hot bath." Her head and body hurt. And she still needed to write up a report on the luncheon.

Dave turned to the driver. "We're ready to go now," he ordered.

Slowly the car pulled from the porch steps, down the long curved driveway to the front gate. Stopping, the driver waited for the guards to give permission to proceed.

"So, what was the argument about?" Dave inquired as the car began to move down the busy street.

"Leftover from the other day. Britain wants to call for more security and France wants to cut a deal…unless that won't work, then they want to pull out." She just wanted to relax and not think about how the two ambassadors had nearly come to blows.

"Is that possible?"

Em opened her eyes. "Right now? I don't think anyone is going anywhere unless they do an emergency airlift out of here. But where are they going to land a C-3?"

"Do you think Keifer is going to have an answer on our status?"

"I don't know. All I can do is report what went down. It's still his decision."

"Let me pull some strings with a couple of people I know in the Senate. Or even the CIA. There has to be something that can be done to prevent possible bloodshed."

"I can't let you do that, Dave. This is still my job."

"And my job is to protect."

She heaved a heavy breath of frustration. "Look, can we discuss this later? I have a headache."

"I'm not going to drop it."

"I understand, but not right now."

"Em…"

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Dave, I mean it. Drop -" Her demand was cut off as a loud, powerful explosion rocked the car and blew out the back window. The last thing Em remembered was letting out a scream as Dave pushed her to the floor board of the car and then threw himself over her to protect her from the flying glass.

Then her world went black.


	21. Chapter 21

**One Hello**

Dave's ears were ringing so loud he could barely hear the commotion from the street as weeping, screaming, and sirens filled the air. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and building materials permeated the crisp December air. All around was chaos.

Pushing himself up, Dave looked around the area and tried to comprehend what had just happened. _A bomb! _Now he remembered. Frantically, he pulled at Em's unconscious form lying on the floorboards of the car.

"Em! Emily!" He shook her to bring her back. No response. "Emily!" He pulled her into his arms and began looking for injuries. A gash across her forehead was bleeding profusely.

"Driver!" Dave shouted as the sirens neared. "Driver! Are you conscious? Talk to me!"

Shaking his head, the driver tried to snap himself out of the daze he had been thrust into. "I'm here. I'm here." His hands gripped the steering wheel like a life line.

"Will the car start?"

"I…I think so. I don't know."

"Try it," Dave commanded in his Marine Sergeant tone of voice. "Turn the key, son."

Obeying, the driver tried to turn over the engine a couple of times. On the third attempt, the car came to life. He said a prayer of thanksgiving under his breath.

"Drive us to the nearest hospital. Now!"

As careful as he dared, the driver maneuvered the car thru the street lined with burned out cars, dead bodies, and injured people waiting for assistance. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the man who was holding the ambassador.

"Is she alright?" he asked.

Dave tore at his shirt and pressed it to Em's wound. "She will be." His eyes met the driver's. "Keep an eye on the road. How far is the hospital?"

"Five clicks…more or less. When I get past the next corner, I'll be able to floor it."

"Just don't overdo it," Dave advised and went back to tending Em's injuries. Twice he called her name, then lightly slapped her face. "Come on, Tesoro, wake up. Tell me to stop calling you that," he begged. "Tesoro." He slapped her cheeks again. "Tesoro."

Em liked the darkness - it was safe and quiet and pain free - she didn't want to wake up. She tried to fight it, but the voice kept calling her name. She tried to tell it to stop, but the words wouldn't form.

"Emily, wake up!"

Groaning, Em forced her eyes to open, but the bright light was too harsh. "No," she whispered.

"That's my girl," Dave praised. He looked at her face. "Open your eyes. You have to open them, Em. You suffered a concussion, so you can't sleep. Don't go to sleep. Wake up!"

"No. Leave me…" she slurred.

"What is my name?" he asked. How could three miles take so long, he wondered. Hell, he could have walked to the hospital by now.

"I don't…" She tried to think.

"What is my name?" he repeated.

"D-Dave," she managed.

"Good girl. What day is it?"

"Tues… No, Thursday."

"Which month?"

"D-D-December, I think."

"You're doing well, Tesoro."

Em closed her eyes. "Don't call me, Tes…" Her head lolled against Dave's shoulder.

"Damn it! Driver, step on it!" Laying Em's head in his lap, he applied more pressure to the wound. Why wouldn't it stop bleeding? "Em, we're almost there. I'm not going to let you go."

The car came to a sudden and abrupt halt as the driver hit the brakes and threw the engine into park. Quickly, he got out and hurried to open the passenger door.

"Let me help," he offered and bent down to take Em from Dave.

"No. No," Dave brushed the driver away. "Go get a stretcher…help…anything. I got her." Shifting his weight, he stepped out of the car and stood up. Adjusting Em's slight build in his arms, he hurried toward the Emergency doors.

A doctor and nurse met him at the doors. Immediately they began to assess the situation and Em's condition.

"How long has she been unconscious?" the doctor asked as he peered into Em's eyes and checked her pupils.

"A couple of minutes. She came to, but she lost consciousness soon after," Dave relayed. The doctor snapped for a stretcher. Reluctantly, Dave surrendered the woman of his heart over to the trauma team and watched as they rushed her into the hospital.

He hurried after them. He barely listened to the medical jargon as Em's vitals were taken. He barely remembered how he found himself in a sterile white exam room.

"Sir," a nurse's voice broke through Dave's thoughts. "Sir?" she repeated when she received no response.

"Yes?" Dave acknowledged her.

"I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside." The nurse gently took his arm and tried to lead him out of the room.

"I'm not leaving her." Dave stood firm and watched the doctor tend to Em's injuries.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She put more force behind moving him out of the room into the hallway. "She'll be alright," the nurse assured Dave before leaving to assist with the other victims who were being brought in.

Looking around the hospital, Dave pulled his thoughts together. He needed to report in about what had just happened…as soon as he found out Em's condition.  
*******

Hotch was lying in bed relishing in being able to just rest and not have to worry about going in to the office. Christmas stand down had commenced, and he was going to spend the two weeks he had been given with Jack.

Jack. His heart.

He smiled as he recalled how Jack had run into the bedroom excited about the foot of snow that had fallen during the night. Could they make a snow fort? When could they go outside? It had taken all of Hotch's energy to calm his son down and send him downstairs to eat a bowl of cereal. He would be down, soon.

But first, he was going to catch a little more sleep. He turned over, punched the pillow, and closed his eyes.

The ringing of the cell interrupted his slumber. Reaching over, he grabbed the phone, flipped it open.

"Hotchner."

"Boss!"

"Garcia?" Hotch heard the panic in the tech analyst's voice. Fully awake, he sat up and prepared for the worst. "What's wrong?"

"Are you watching the news?" she demanded.

"No. No," he replied stupidly. "I just got up. What's wrong?" He blindly reached for the remote to turn on the TV.

"Turn on the news!"

Hotch pressed a button. The news station came on. The scene of a city bombing and terror covered the screen. Hotch tried to comprehend what was happening.

"There was a bombing in Jordan!" Pen continued in a rush. "Emily is in Jordan! What is going on?!"

"Wait! What is going on? Start at the beginning," Hotch ordered. He listened as Pen repeated everything she knew up to that moment.

"I can't get hold of anyone who can tell me how my angel is," Pen nearly wept.

"What about Dave? Have you contacted him? What about Ambassador Prentiss?" Hotch jumped out of bed and started dressing as fast as one free arm would allow.

"Rossi's phone is down. And Ambassador Prentiss's went to voicemail. Oh, Boss! What if…?"

Hotch stopped cold. "No 'what ifs', Garcia," he interrupted. "Take a deep breath, and then I want you to do everything you can to find out about what is happening there. Do you understand me?"

"Y-y-yes, Boss," she stammered.

"Emily is alright. I'm sure of it." He looked at his watch. "I need to get dressed and call Jessica. I will be in the office in thirty minutes. I will want an update." He flipped the phone closed.

Pulling on his Navy blue jacket, Hotch looked out the window at the snow covered yard. His heart sank. He had broken his promise to Jack. Again.

Hotch sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. He could still make it up to his son.

But first, there was evil he needed to defeat.

Flipping the phone open, he pressed two buttons and waited for the contact to answer.

"Reid? It's Hotch. What are your plans?" he asked, then nodded as the answer came over the line. "I need you to go with me to Jordan."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Reid finally makes his appearance in this chapter. Sorry it took so long, but he was busy teaching class at the academy. Now he's on the case with Hotch to help save Dave and Em.**_

**One Hello**

The sun was setting over Jordan as the damaged armored car drove thru the front gate of the embassy grounds. Night was falling over the desert, and the cool day had been replaced with a cold night. But that did nothing to erase the memory of the earlier day's events.

Settled against the back seat, Em kept her eyes closed and tried to brace herself against any bumps in the road that might jar her head. Her injuries had not been life-threatening, but the doctor had deemed them serious enough to warrant wanting to keep Em overnight for observation. Against the judgment of the doctor and Dave, she had checked herself out. It was more pride than need that had made her put her foot down and decide to go home.

"You should have stayed overnight for observation," Dave suggested as he took in Em's ashen face and injuries. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her cheek where the beginning of a black eye was forming.

"I'm not really hurt, and the bed could go to someone who really needs it." Em resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands and weep. Everything hurt, but it didn't compare to the embarrassment she was feeling.

"You suffered a concussion and a laceration that required six stitches," he pointed out. "You should have stayed." He didn't want to order her around - and technically, he didn't have the power to make her medical decisions - but he cared. And that should mean something, right?

"I need to be home where I can relax in peace. The hospital was too noisy and it was making my head hurt," she argued. And there was too much noise. Too much grief and death. She needed to be where she could think and regroup. Her life had flashed before her eyes, and she had some decisions to make about her and Claire.

"Still…"

"I couldn't spend the night away from Claire," her tone was firm enough to let him know that the conversation was done.

Dave bit his tongue as the car came to a stop at the steps of the porch. Em gingerly opened the car door and stepped out. Immediately her world began to spin, and she held on to the door until the wave of dizziness passed.

Dave hurried to her side. "You need to lie down," he said and took her arm. "Let me help."

"Don't carry me inside," Em ordered, shaking him off.

"You can't walk! Em, you can barely stand!"

"No, Dave. I won't let Claire see me as anything less than weak. And it's bad enough that I'm going in looking like this, but if she sees you carrying me…" She drew in a ragged breath and tried to steady her nerves. Her head was hurting and black dots danced in front of her eyes, but she was going to win this fight.

Her meaning finally dawned on him. "I understand." He cupped her cheek. "I'll let you walk inside, but let me help you. Don't shut me out. Please."

Em closed her eyes and nodded. She couldn't fight with him forever. "Okay."

Dave grasped her hand in his. "Come on. Claire is waiting," he gave her a reassuring smile. Together they climbed the steps to the front door.  
******

Hotch looked over all of the reports that Garcia had printed up for him. He had familiarized himself to the point that he knew all the information forwards and backwards. And he had been on the phone with the State Department and the CIA since he had walked thru the doors of the BAU trying to get everything he could on what was happening. But it was the same old government motto: Hurry up and wait.

And now it was past noon and he was no closer to any answers than when his tech analyst had called with the news that a bombing had happened in Jordan.

If only he could get hold of Dave, then he could start piecing together his next move. Because all Hotch knew at that moment was that Emily Prentiss and her daughter were in the middle of what was quickly turning into a violent uprising with the ability to take many more lives than the ten that had been recorded. Minor compared to other bombings, but still too many in his book. One was too many.

A knock on the door made him look up.

"Reid! Come in!" Hotch greeted and gestured for his friend to take a seat.

Reid stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. "I got your message, and I cleared my schedule. When do we leave?" He sat his lanky form down in the red leather chair across from Hotch.

"As soon as JJ can make the arrangements. It might still be a few hours…weather permitting. I am hoping that we can leave sometime tonight."

Reid nodded. He looked at the folders scattered across the desk. "Is this everything that is happening?"

"It is." Hotch gathered up the folders and handed them over. "I had Garcia print up everything she could find…including this morning's bombing."

Reid scanned the words quickly. "Al Qaeda is behind this?" His fingers flipped the papers as quick as lightning while digesting everything from words to maps and statistics.

"We don't know yet. No one is taking responsibility. The best I can understand is that one of the factions is making a statement to kick start something bigger."

"A car bomb in a shopping square near the British embassy is one way of getting their point across. Have you heard from Emily?" Reid stacked everything in order and placed the folders back on the desk.

Hotch tried to mask the fear in his eyes, but Reid saw it. It was moments like this that the BAU Chief seemed more human than any other time - except when he was with Jack.

"I haven't heard anything. I am still waiting for Dave to report in. I am sure that Garcia is beside herself right now, but there is nothing we can do until either Dave or Emily calls in."

"What about the CIA department Rossi is based out of?"

"Agent Edwards is waiting for Dave to check in, but the communications are still down. Meanwhile, he is gathering up everything on what happened."

Hotch sat down in the chair and pulled out an itinerary. "I had JJ pull some strings and get us on the next military transport. We'll have to stop over in England." He handed the paper to Reid. "Chances are that we'll have Elizabeth Prentiss with us the rest of the way."

The younger agent scanned the list. "Do we have clearance?"

"Not at the moment. But we can get as far as Germany," Hotch confessed. "Then we wait."

"For…?" Reid watched for Hotch's reaction. Though his gaze was unblinking and steady, the corner of his lip twitched. That meant he had doubts about the outcome, but he wasn't going to voice it.

"Whatever happens next."

It didn't take an expert profiler to read the meaning in Hotch's words.


	23. Chapter 23

**One Hello**

"I finally got her to fall asleep," Em announced softly as she sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. It had been a long day and her body ached, but holding her daughter close had been the best medicine. Hearing "I love you, Mommy" had been like music to her ears.

It had taken everything she had not to crawl into bed with Claire and hold her. But Em knew she had to let the girl sleep by herself. And she had to sleep in her own bed.

"I would offer you a brandy, but I know that you took a pain pill," Dave observed.

"There is a part of me that would take you up on that offer, but…" She sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"This. Everything. How could I have been so stupid and let my guard down?" she wondered aloud.

"You weren't stupid, Em, it was a car bomb."

"But I should have known that something like this was going to happen. I should have stayed here."

"You could have," he agreed, "but it wouldn't have changed what happened today. You didn't do this," he pointed out matter of factly.

"I'm not trying hard enough for peace."

Dave blinked in astonishment. "Pardon my French, but 'bullshit!'. How much harder are you supposed to try and negotiate peace between terrorists and a government that isn't yours?"

"It's my responsibility to present ways to avoid what happened today."

"You can present until the cows come home, Tes… Em, but you can't negotiate with evil. Those people wanted to make a statement and instill fear in the hearts of people. And what they did today, did exactly that." He moved from the chair to the couch and took her hand in his.

"This is not your fault," he comforted. "There is no way you could have prevented or known that this was going to happen."

"I let my guard down."

"How do you figure?" Dave asked. "Is it because you got hurt?" Em looked down and away. "Em, getting hurt is not your fault. You're still alive and able to fight another day."

"I know that…I want to believe that, but…" She stood up and paced the narrow area between the couch and coffee table. "You don't understand, Dave. I felt helpless…like when Doyle stabbed me. My fate was out of my hands. And I swore, when I woke from my coma, to never put myself in that place where I let my guard down. Today…today showed that I…" her voice choked with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

With the back of her hand, Em shakily brushed a tear away. "That helpless feeling came back. Every thing I felt that night when I was fighting with Doyle, came back. I was scared."

Dave stood up and grabbed her shoulders to make her stop pacing. "I understand. It's okay to feel scared. I've been there, in your shoes. I know that fear. It's okay."

"No, it isn't okay."

"Em, when that embassy was stormed in '79, I had been trained for combat, but _nothing _in my Marine background prepared me for that kind of terror. That was hell. And I was scared out of my mind. Every time I walked into a hostage negotiation or an interrogation with a killer who had nothing to lose, I've been scared shitless. It's normal. What you're feeling is normal."

"I want to believe you. I do," she sniffled.

Dave bent his head down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're exhausted and hurt. You need to be in bed right now."

"I have to write my report and submit it."

"You can do that in the morning."

"I know. You're right," she conceded. "There's something… I need to call Mother and let her know I'm alright."

Dave started to argue, but he thought twice about starting something. "Okay." He kissed her softly. "Don't take too long."

"I won't fall asleep at my desk," she snorted. "If that is what you're afraid of."

"Then I would have to carry you to bed and tuck you in."

"In your dreams."

Em turned and started toward the study.

"Dave?" she turned to face him.

"Yes?"

"I don't think I thanked you for being there and helping me. I'm not too proud to know when…" She tried to put her thoughts into words, but couldn't. "Thank you."

Dave nodded in understanding. "You're welcome."

"Goodnight, Dave."

"Goodnight."

Em closed the door behind her.  
******

Em rubbed her eyes, yawned, and looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. She should be in bed. And she was almost ready to turn in. But there was one more thing she needed to finish now that the report had been filed, and the phone calls made.

The conversation with the Ambassador still rang in her ears. And everything her mother had said was the truth, but what could she say? She knew everyone needed to get the hell out of the area, but it was out of her hands to get transport coordinated. She was doing everything in her power to make sure hell didn't break loose.

But as she listened to Elizabeth - for the first time she really heard what her mother was saying - and there was fear in her voice. Fear of losing her child - her only daughter - and never being able to say I love you.

And as that realization hit home, Em found herself empathizing with her mother. And in a way, they had finally bonded over common ground. Life had come full circle.

As she hung up the phone, Em realized that she had been harboring hate and anger toward Dave for what had happened four years ago. The water had finally gone down under that bridge and it was time to let go. It was time to move on and accept that she couldn't change what had happened that horrible Christmas Eve night, but she could change what was going to happen from here on in.

They were older and they had both suffered. They had a common bond: a daughter. It was time to try and meet him halfway. After all, he had saved her life. And he would do anything for Claire.

Opening the drawer, she took out a piece of paper. Clicking the pen a couple of times, she tried to form her words to make sense. Then she put ink to paper and wrote.

Signing her name at the bottom, she looked it over. Then she folded it and stuffed it in an envelope and printed Dave's name on the outside.

Satisfied, she stood up, turned out the light. It was time to go to bed.


	24. Chapter 24

**One Hello**

"What did she write in that letter?" Ray asked as he tried to peer closer to the scene down below. He was happy to see Em hadn't been severely injured in the blast, but there was something about her demeanor that scared him. She was too distant…just as she had been during the Doyle tragedy. The sad, melancholy look on her face was enough to make him want to weep.

"I can't tell you," Emma replied. As Em's guardian angel, she was privy to what was going on in her charge's life, but that didn't mean she had the right to divulge the information to others.

"You can't, or you won't?" he challenged.

"Both."

"How am I supposed to save Claire if I don't know what Emily's doing?"

"What's in the letter has no real bearing on Claire's welfare," Emma returned evenly. "Whether you know what Emily wrote, won't change what's going to happen."

Ray held up his hands. "How am I supposed to do my job if I don't have all the facts?"

"You didn't have all the facts when you undertook this assignment in the beginning, but you did your job."

Ray shook his head. "I wish I had had all the information. It would have made a difference."

"What could you have changed?" Emma returned.

"I don't know…something. At least I could have approached Dave from a different point of view."

"You approached him with tough love, which is what you were supposed to do."

"But look where it's led: Emily is going to die, and possibly Dave and Claire, too. I don't think this is the meaning of 'tough love'," he replied angrily.

"You want out?" she challenged.

"And if I said yes?"

"I would call you a fool. Look what you've done so far."

"It hasn't been much," he groused and let out a frustrated sigh.

"That is your anger and frustration talking. You've done a lot to help."

"Yeah, yeah," he pointed toward the empty study, "I've gone above and beyond."

"And here I thought you had changed. You're no different than that little brat who hit me in the face with a snowball," Emma shook her head, but there was a bit of anger in her eyes.

"You're going to bring that up?" Ray was incredulous that his past was going to be used against him.

"You bet I am! I thought you were better than that guy who dealt with the underworld, but in the end you're just the same kind of guy Dave ran away from."

"Hey! I've bust my a-." He stopped and bit his tongue. "I've done everything I was supposed to…and without question."

"Oh really?"

"Yes!"

"So, when did this become all about you?" Emma threw at him.

"Excuse me?"

"No, I won't. Answer the question. When did what was supposed to happen become all about you?"

"That's unfair."

"And so is trying to take all the guilt for Dave and Emily's fate. Your job is to care and watch over their daughter. Zoë and I are taking care of the secondary parties involved. I know you want to get emotionally involved with your friend, but you have to remember where you are."

"I'm not an angel," he argued. "My hands are tied."

"That attitude is going to ensure that you don't become one. Look, you took this job, Ray. Now you have to see it through. This isn't easy for any of us. Life is the most precious gift we have been given, so it's only natural that we want to rush in and help. But sometimes you have to let the pieces fall where they will."

"Dave has done some things, and so has Em, but that doesn't warrant what is going to happen. They are not bad people."

"Bad and good have nothing to do with destiny. We all have a plan and a road we are supposed to follow. Sometimes it ends before we're ready. But it never ends before it's supposed to." Her blue eyes were filled with peace.

"I understand, but that doesn't make the pain easier to deal with." He felt his heart sink.

"I know. But being an angel is a blessing, and no one said the burden would be easy. At least you have the Big Guy on your side."

"If only the team could get there in time. Maybe someone can send reinforcements to help. Tell me that help is going to get there in time."

Emma laid a gentle, reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder. "You worry about Claire, and let me worry about Emily."

"Will Dave ever remember the night we visited him?" Ray asked. He looked down at the darkened embassy bathed in moonlight and motion sensor lights.

"He might. Then again, he just might need a little shove in the right direction."

"Which direction would that be?"

Emma thought for a moment, then smiled. "Love."  
*****

Dave tossed and turned and tried to find a comfortable position, but no matter what he did, his mind wouldn't shut off. The day's events continued to play in his mind, rewinding and replaying each and every scene over and over.

He did what he was supposed to do. Everything he told Em was correct; there was nothing else he, nor she, could have done to prevent the car bomb. Absolutely nothing from CIA Intelligence had indicated that the next step would be explosives. But now that they were a factor, the game had changed. People were going to start rushing the embassy, if and when the word got out that evacuations were under way. And what was peaceful terror would be turned into hell on earth. There was no way they were equipped for the rush. They needed reinforcements.

The Glock and three extra clips he brought along were not going to cut it.

In the morning he would contact the President if he needed to, and get the ball rolling. Christmas was only four days away. Claire, Em, and everyone else deserved to celebrate in peace and safety.

Rolling over, he punched his pillow again, then turned it over to find the cool spot. Nope. That wasn't working, either. Maybe a shower. Or maybe he could go downstairs and get a Scotch. That always helped to calm his nerves and help him forget.

But it wasn't just forgetting about Em almost dying and being unable to stop it, it was deeper than that…it was the lost look in Em's eyes, afterwards. It was the look of defeat and failure. He had only seen that twice in all the years he had known her. And now it was back.

He needed to call Hotch. He would, in the morning.

A soft noise caught his ear. Before he could register the shadow in the hallway, his door was opened. Adjusting his eyes in the dark, he made out the figure approaching the bed.

"Em? What are you doing in here? Is it Claire?" He started to sit up.

"She's okay," Em reassured in a low tone.

"Are you alright?" There was concern and fear in his voice.

She shook her head. "No. No, I'm not." She wasn't. Her life had flashed before her eyes - for the second time! - and it had scared the hell out of her.

"What's wrong? Do you want to talk?" He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Moonlight filtered thru the window to land on Em's face.

Silently, Em untied the belt around her robe, then pushed the material off her shoulders. The silk made a whisper sound as it fell to the carpeted floor.

"What are you -?" Dave started but was stopped when Em pressed a finger to his lips to silence his question.

"Shhh," she instructed before lowering her head to press her lips to his.


	25. Chapter 25

_Em goes to Dave._

**One Hello**

Dave froze for a moment as Em lowered her lips to his and kissed him. He had been prepared for everything but Em slipping off her robe and standing before him in her glorious nakedness. He had wanted to ask her what was going on, but she had stopped him with a kiss.

He wanted to move back or pull away, but as her tongue traced the seam of his lips and she wrapped her arms around him, he felt himself give in. Moaning low, he put an arm around Em's slim hips and pulled her closer.

Hands caressing as their tongues mated in a wild dance, neither could get enough of what the other was offering. It was almost too good to be real.

Coming up for air, Dave broke away. "Em…do you know what you're doing?" he panted.

"I want to make love to you," she replied. Her fingers deftly worked the buttons on Dave's pajama jacket.

Dave's hands halted her progress. "Tes… Em…you've been injured. You should be resting."

"I know what I'm doing."

"I don't want to take advantage of you in your…condition," he protested, though his body was coming to life. How many nights over the past four years had he lain awake imagining her taking control and loving him again? How many dreams had he had of her making love to him, only to wake up to an empty bed?

"That's why I came to you." She worked the last button and slipped the jacket off. "I saw my life flash before my eyes, and if I'm going to die, I want one more night with you." She pushed him back on to the bed.

"You hate me," he reminded her.

"I don't hate you," she corrected and stopped removing his pajama bottoms. "Not anymore."

"Em," he sighed. It wasn't that he was afraid to go down this road, it was what could be waiting for him when he got there.

Em straddled his waist and leaned down. "Dave, tell me to stop and I will. But I want you." Her eyes looked deep into his. There was something there, but he couldn't figure out what. And God help him, he wanted her. He needed her!

"You said that we needed to hold on to this second chance we've been given," she reminded him.

Dave shook his head. There was nothing he could say to counter her actions. She was in control. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Cupping his face in her hands, Em kissed him as though her life depended on it. And maybe it did. She had seen what her life had been like without him - his doing, of course! - but she had also seen what life would be like if she passed up the second chance she had been given.

Seductively, her breasts brushed against Dave's chest. The electrical current she caused, made him moan from need. His hands itched to move upward, but he held them down. He wanted to touch her, but he didn't dare. He didn't have that right.

Sensing his hesitancy, Em took one of Dave's hands and cupped her breast with it. "Go ahead," she whispered. "Touch me."

Dave didn't need any further prompting. His hand kneaded Em's full breast while his thumb stroked her nipple. Bending his head down, he took the taut peak in his mouth and suckled. His body hardened with each soft moan Em emitted. Encouraged, he lavished attention on the twin globe until Em had to break away. Quickly, she pulled off Dave's pajama bottoms.

Lying naked in the moonlight, Dave had never felt more exposed, but the look in Em's eyes indicated that he had nothing to fear. And as her hand wrapped around him, Dave only had a moment to think before she ducked her head and began to love him.

Then all thoughts went out of his head. For four years he had relived the last time Em had made love to him. He had replayed it and dreamt about it until he thought he was going insane. But even his memory had nothing on the reality of what she was doing to him. Involuntarily, he thrust his hips upward and groaned aloud as she took him deeper into the warm recess of her mouth.

Em concentrated on loving Dave, even though he was wrapping his hands in her hair and tried to indicate that he wanted more. Moving upward, she trailed kisses across his stomach, along his chest, to the pulsating indentation at the base of his throat.

"Em," Dave sighed her name like a prayer.

Pulling back, she looked into his eyes that were misted over with desire. Her body went from hot to being an inferno. It nearly overwhelmed her that after everything, he could still look at her with want. She had wanted to believe that he had changed, but it was only after he had gone out of his way to help her when she was injured, did she believe.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

Dave shook his head. "Never."

Kissing him deep, she moved her hips and made herself one with him. Gasping, she took a moment to adjust to his size. Then she slowly undulated her hips to try and make him crazy. And if the way he was stroking her and calling her name was any indication, she was making him mad.

Dave felt his world be pulled out from under him as Em encased him in her hot, wet heat. The air was sucked from his lungs as the moment dawned on him that he was one with the woman of his heart. Finally.

Setting the rhythm, Em forced Dave to keep pace with her as she tried to push them both over the edge. Heavy panting of breathless endearments filled the air as the couple took pleasure from each other and tried to make the moment last. But that feeling of completion was taking hold of Em.

Grinding her hips, she took Dave deep. That was enough to make him take control. Thrusting deep, he reset the pace and dared her to keep up. Bracing her palms on his chest, Em threw her head back as her orgasm threatened to take over.

Dave felt her velvet walls grip him and that made him increase his tempo. Thrusting in and out, he took pleasure hearing her cries of pleasure. But he wanted more. He wanted to hear her say his name as he took her to that place. Grasping her hips, he settled her firmly on him as he took over.

Em could barely catch her breath as Dave's thrusts pushed her closer to the edge of no return, and thinking wasn't even possible. Her body tensed and released as the orgasm built. She could hold out, she knew she could…until Dave touched her. That was all it took.

"Dave!" she cried and collapsed on his chest.

As Em's body shook from the powerful completion, he only had a moment to relish in victory as her body grabbed his and held on. One more thrust, then he wrapped his arms around her and joined her.


	26. Chapter 26

**One Hello**

_The snow crackled under his feet as he made his way thru the darkness. There must be some reason for his journey, but he hadn't figured out what it was. All he knew was that it was colder than hell, and he was no closer to finding what he needed to know._

_In the distance, an owl hooted a warning. He shivered. Where was he? He thought he might be in his beloved woods by the cabin, but nothing he could see or smell seemed familiar. Yet, it did…in some strange way he could put his finger on._

_His thoughts were interrupted as he tripped and fell over something on the ground._

_What the hell?! He thought to himself as he pushed himself up. Brushing the snow off his jeans, he felt the cold wetness seep into the material. Well, wherever he was, it was winter._

"_You could at least give me a hint," he said to no one in particular. Slowly, the moon broke thru the heavy clouds and basked the area in a pale yellow light. He adjusted his eyes to the surroundings and tried to make out the objects._

_Tombstones? He was in a cemetery? Was he dead? Was this a premonition?_

_Shivering again, he buried himself deeper into the heavy coat that suddenly incased him. This was, by far, one of the craziest dreams he had ever had! _

_No, he corrected, this was déjà vu. He'd been here before. He knew he had. But when? And why?_

_A branch broke under his foot, causing him to look down. A gold plate caught his eye. "What in the world?" he muttered and squatted down to get a better look. His hand carefully brushed the snow off. Then he gasped._

**Emily Marie Prentiss**

**Beloved Daughter, sister, friend, and mother.**

**Oct 12, 1971 - Dec 24, 2015**

_Oh God! No! Not this! Anything but this! He screamed silently. There was no way he was at Em's grave! Didn't he have that taken care of? Wasn't that why he was sent to Jordan? He saved her. And Claire, too! This wasn't possible!_

_Putting his hand down, he touched something hard. Another marker. His heart dropped like a stone. He was almost too afraid to look as he brushed the snow away. Gulping down the sob that threatened to make its way out, he closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. Then he looked._

**Claire Marie Elizabeth Prentiss**

**Beloved daughter and granddaughter.**

**Our angel is in heaven's arms.**

**Aug 06, 2012 - Dec 24, 2015**

"_NO!" he screamed as the words sank in. Not his daughter! Not his precious miracle! She wasn't dead. There was no way she was dead. What had happened? Something had to have for both to be… He shook his head. No! He wasn't going to think about it! It was a dream. Too much trauma from the previous day's events._

_He had to snap out of it. There was a logical explanation. He just needed to wake up. Okay, on the count of three, he was going to wake up and be back in his bed and everyone will be alive and well. One…two…three! _

_It hadn't worked! He was still in this nightmare. There was no other way to explain it._

_What happened to him? Where was he that he could have let this happen? There had to be some reason he had dropped the ball and couldn't protect Em and Claire. Maybe they had been separated, he reasoned. Maybe he had been on the other side of the embassy. Maybe…_

_He had to get home and think it over. He had to find a reason and make sense of everything. He would have a drink, call Hotch, then discuss what this dream meant._

_Putting his hand down, he grabbed the headstone to his right and pulled himself up. A drink sounded so good right now._

_He didn't know what made him look down, but his eyes were drawn to the words on the tombstone. He blinked once. Twice. Three times just so he could comprehend what he was reading. Was that correct? Just to make sure, he said the words out loud:_

**David Anthony Rossi**

**Beloved friend and father.**

**Nov 25, 1955 - Dec 24, 2015**

_He was dead. That was why he couldn't save them. He was dead. And he had failed them. Bending his head, he wept._

Sitting up, Dave tried to catch his breath. Dazed, confused, he looked around the room. He was alive! Frantically, he felt for the warm body lying beside him.

"Em?" he called out, shaking her. "Em? Wake up."

"Wha-? What?" Em drowsily replied as she was dragged from her peaceful sleep.

"Wake up."

Turning over, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Dave tried to catch his breath. Em was alive! It had only been a nightmare. Everything was okay.

"Nothing," he said. "Everything is okay."

"Are you sure?" she yawned.

"I just had a dream that I - I woke up and you weren't here. That's all." He drew her into his arms and kissed her. "You're here."

"I am," she said between kisses. Dave's hands were roaming over her body, caressing and fondling every inch. "Will you tell me what's wrong?" she asked.

Without replying, Dave laid her down on the bed and proceeded to make love to her for the rest of the night.


	27. Chapter 27

_Last chapter of the year! Happy New Year to all! May your 2013 be prosperous and full of blessings!_

_This chapter is dedicated to Ann, Becks, Matty, and Jennifer. Thank you for standing behind me and believing in me! God bless you!_

* * *

**One Hello**

Morning sunlight filtered thru the large bullet proof bay window of the embassy residence to chase the darkness. Awake since the break of dawn, Dave had wandered the residence, checking doors and windows. On his hip he had placed his readied Glock. If there was going to be bloodshed, he was going to make sure it was on the other side.

The nightmare had scared the hell out of him. It didn't take a profiler to figure out that it was a premonition of what was to come. Usually when a dream came, he could shake it off - God knew he had had his share of morning after crime scene nightmares. But this had chilled him to the bone.

And it hadn't helped that Emily had come to him and made love to him.

Not that he could or would have turned her away if she had begged him too. But it was everything piled on, and he couldn't let emotions get in the way of doing his job. God help him, but he loved her! He never had stopped loving her, and last night only reinforced what his heart had always known.

Except, what if the nightmare wasn't true? What if it was the product of an overactive writer's imagination? That could be it, he reasoned. How many scenarios had he written about over the past 25 years? How many plots had he devised and twisted to make a story work? He could be living in one of this stories.

Zoë.

He stopped what he was doing. How long had it been since he had thought about her? He had missed sending her mother a card this year because he was busy helping Em. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall. He owed her a card.

Then the memory of the Christmas past came back.

Clear as day, he could see every moment of when Zoë had visited him to when she revealed that Em had died that Christmas Eve day. He could feel every bit of anger, fear, and confusion. He could taste the tears of loss and regret. He had thought things could have been changed if he had kept Em from leaving. And he thought she was out of the woods by going to England. Then she had been transferred to Jordan. And he had been brought in to help her.

So, what changed everything? But then again, did it matter?

But what if it was he who died instead? He could deal with that. He had lived long enough and seen everything - including the miracle called Claire. He could go to his grave knowing that there was a part of him that would live on. Unless… No! He shook his head. He would not think of worst case scenario. It could be him. It would be better for Claire to lose the parent she never knew over the parent who had nurtured her from the beginning.

But he had to make sure that she didn't forget him. She was going to at least have his last name - Em would owe him at least that much. And in return, he would provide for their daughter's future for the rest of her life.

Hurrying to the study, Dave made his way to the massive desk and began looking thru the drawers. He needed paper and a pen. A minute later, he found what he was looking for. Then he put pen to paper and wrote:

_I, David Anthony Rossi, being of sound mind, do acknowledge Claire Marie Elizabeth Prentiss as my legal and sole heir. Therefore, as such, upon my death, she is to receive my estate…to be held in trust until her 25__th__ birthday. I appoint her mother, Emily Marie Prentiss, as executor of that trust. Should Emily Prentiss be unable to perform her duties, I appoint Aaron Mark Hotchner to assume the duties as trustee._

_Signed,_

_David Anthony Rossi _

_This day, December 20, 2015, Aman, Jordan._

Satisfied, Dave folded the paper, put it in an envelope, wrote Claire's name on it, and shoved it in his dress coat pocket.

Sighing, he replaced the pen in the top drawer, stood up, and left the office to join his daughter for breakfast.  
******************

Em stood outside the kitchen and listened to the conversation on the other side of the door.

"Are you really my daddy?" Claire asked.

"Yes, I am," Dave replied.

"Then why did you go away?"

"Because…" Dave considered his excuse carefully. "Because, sometimes when you are a grown up, you do things without thinking. Like a...mistake."

"A mistake is when you are told to hang your coat, and you don't, and it falls on the floor," Claire returned smartly.

"That makes sense," he agreed with a nod.

"Is that why you don't like lima beans?"

"I…yes."

"Okay. Do you love me?"

"With all of my heart," came his sincere answer.

"Will you save me from evil-doers?"

Taken aback, Dave tried to reply. "I will do everything I can to protect you."

"Promise?" Her eyes were wide as she waited his response.

"I promise."

"Pinky promise?" She held out her right hand. Dave stared at it as though it was the most precious thing on earth.

"Pinky promise." He hooked his finger with hers. Their eyes met, and then his heart fell forever.

"I like you."

"I like you, too."

"Are you going to marry Mommy?"

Oh boy! "How about some breakfast?" he hurriedly changed the subject. "I bet you are hungry." He reached for the box of Raisin Bran.

"Gimme your bowl," Claire ordered.

"Excuse me?"

"Gimme your bowl, please," she corrected. Dave surrendered his bowl over and watched as Claire carefully poured the sugary bits and pieces until they reached the rim. Satisfied, she handed the bowl over. "Here!"

"Uh…"

"Now that you're my daddy, you can have my cereal."

Blinking back the sudden rush of tears, Dave reached over and grabbed his daughter in a big bear hug, kissing her soundly.

"I love you, Claire," he choked out in a rough voice.

"I love you." Lovingly, she patted his back.

Behind the door, Em tried to sniff back the tears that were running down her face. Daughter and father had bonded. Now it was going to be easier to set her plan in motion.


	28. Chapter 28

_Sorry that it took so long to post this, but I had to work New Year's Eve night and New Year's Day, so I have been sleep deprived. Plus, I had to figure out how to reword the chapter with the plot I had formed now that Al Qaeda stole it from me! But as a friend counseled me, I didn't abandon [the idea] because to do so would mean that they win. The hell I let them win!_

* * *

**One Hello**

"Agent Hotcher?" a voice asked as a tall, well-dressed man approached the trio coming off the military plane.

"Yes," Hotch answered and held up his hand to block the bright sunlight that seemed to cut thru the sunglasses. He sized the stranger up.

"I'm Jacob Rabin." He extended his hand in welcome. "Jennifer Jareau told me that you were arriving here in Germany. I thought I'd meet you and take you to the Israeli embassy until the weather clears up and we can fly to Israel."

Hotch shook Jacob's hand. "I'm sorry we're late, but we were grounded for a couple of hours until the winds died down," Hotch explained.

"I've been watching the weather reports," Jacob remarked and looked at Reid. "You must be Dr. Reid. I've heard a lot about you." He shook Reid's hand. "And you must be Ambassador Prentiss. It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you," Elizabeth Prentiss returned and buried herself deeper into the fur coat. The sharp, bitter German wind was like knife blades as it whipped around them.

Jacob took the luggage bag from Elizabeth. "If you'll follow me to the car, I can help get you settled in. The room arrangements have been made so you can rest." The group walked quickly across the frozen tarmac to the waiting car. Settling his passengers inside, Jacob followed. Putting the car in drive, he followed the signs off the military base and carefully guided the vehicle into traffic.

"Pardon my rudeness," Elizabeth spoke up, "but what do you know of my daughter's situation?"

"That it is dire," Jacob replied truthfully. "Israeli Intelligence is keeping tabs on the situation. Right now we got word from a reliable source that one of the terror groups has put a bounty on the heads of all foreigners. Some are worth more than others."

"What are you not saying?" Hotch's blood ran cold from what he was assuming would be the answer.

Jacob's eyes didn't leave the road as he maneuvered the car thru the traffic. "Americans are at the top of the list."

"When did this happen?"

"Our intelligence picked it up a couple of days ago. We verified it right before I came to pick you up."

"Is the State Department aware of this latest threat?"

Jacob nodded. "We passed it on the moment we received it. We haven't heard back from anyone."

"How serious is the threat?" Elizabeth inquired. The mother in her wanted to shake him for all the information he was holding back, but the seasoned ambassador knew that certain protocol was in place and she needed to bide her time if she was going to get an honest answer.

Jacob considered his response. "At the moment, we are considering it as viable. Though we don't have a specific date."

"Is Israel going to help with the evacuation?" Hotch asked.

"As much as we are allowed. If the fighting gets too intense, we may not be able to do anything. We don't have jurisdiction."

"What about our Navy?" Reid wondered. He mentally pulled up a map of the area and tried to remember where the fleets were stationed. Then he calculated knots to mileage and the distance from the flight deck to the embassy.

"We're still coordinating. If we can get the evacuees to our border, we can protect them…" Jacob offered.

"But if they have a bounty out on Americans, who will stop them?" Elizabeth demanded. "What's in place to stop executions and murder?" She didn't want to think of her daughter in the middle of this mess. She wanted to think that there was a way out like there had been in Tehran. But this wasn't '79, and the game, and the players had changed. It was winner take all.

"We are going to send a couple of army officers over to the American embassy. The Jordanian government may not like it, but there isn't much they can say when Israelis are guests on American soil."

The car drove on to their destination. Slowly, Jacob guided the car thru the gate, up the long path to the front porch of the modest home occupied by the Israeli Ambassador.

"I have to be honest with you," Jacob finally spoke up as he put the car in park and turned off the engine. "We have been keeping tabs on the…situation. And I can tell you that if the embassy is overrun, the outlook is not good. There are troops there, but not as many as are required. Plus, they are not equipped to hold off more than the first wave. After that, it will be God's will as to what their fate might be."

Elizabeth tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Looking out the passenger window of the car, she stared in the direction of where Emily and Claire were. Her heart constricted painfully that she might not ever hold her girls again.

"But you have my word that we will do everything we can to save them." Jacob opened the door and stepped out to go around and help Elizabeth. "Once we get you settled, you can call Emily."

Elizabeth kept her head regal high. Her face, poker trained to confuse any diplomat she was dealing with, did not reveal her true emotions. "I would like that, thank you," she returned diplomatically.

"I'll get our luggage," Hotch offered. "You get settled in." He waited until Jacob and Elizabeth disappeared into the house.

"I was doing the odds," Reid hesitated. "It's not good."

"I didn't think it would be." Hotch lifted the go-bags and handed one to Reid. "If the insurgents aren't aware that we know their possible next move, that may give us time."

"What if they leaked that to throw us off?"

"It's possible. When it comes to a terrorist, you can't assume anything." Hotch closed the trunk lid. "While you were calculating the odds, did you happen to calculate a specific time they might do an uprising?"

Reid nodded. "I did. Christmas Day."

"It's a holiday, and most of the military will be standing down. It makes perfect sense to execute an underhanded plan like this."

"We need to let Emily and Rossi know," Reid said as they climbed the stairs to the porch.

"Once we find out more, I'll give them a call," Hotch promised. "And then tomorrow, we head to Israel."

Reid nodded because there wasn't anything else to say.

And then it began to snow.


	29. Chapter 29

_Hope you don't mind me posting the next chapter. Unfortunately, I don't think many of you are going to be happy with Em in this chapter._

* * *

**One Hello**

Em faced the large window and looked out at the meticulous garden. The bright sunlight filled the room and warmed it. But Em was oblivious as she listened to Charles Keifer.

"I understand, Charles," she interrupted. "I'm saying that it's time we evacuate."

"Emily… You know what you're asking so soon and Christmas just three days away?"

"I'm saying that after the bombing, I've come to the conclusion that my daughter's life - and those of other Americans - is not worth the cost of peace."

"It means sending in troops and support…."

"And…?" she countered back. "Your job, should I remind you, is to protect me while I'm protecting other Americans and foreign nationals. I've done everything you asked. I've even kissed ass to try and get it across that peace needs to be accepted. But I cannot force people to accept when they are intent on killing and dying for a cause."

"Emily. See it from…"

"No! You see it from _my_ point of view, Charles! I have telegrams ready to be sent out to various news organizations, and the President, if you don't get your shit together. I'm sorry, but through playing games!"

"You do realize that if you abandon your post, you will never be appointed again. At least not as long as I hold office," his threat was clear.

"Seriously and honestly, I don't care. Not anymore." And she didn't.

The silence on the line carried on for a long minute as Charles considered his reply. "I may be able to compromise and get all non-essential personnel out. Then we can send for the rest."

Em nodded. At least Claire and Dave and the others would be safe. That's all she wanted.

"Okay," she agreed. "Send me everything so I can coordinate and get everyone where they need to be."

"You'll have it by the end of the day," he promised and disconnected the line. Sighing, Em hung up the receiver and leaned back in the chair. A light knock caused her to jump.

"Em?" Dave asked and walked into the room.

She spun around to look at him. "Hi, Dave."

"I heard you on the phone. Keifer?" Em nodded stiffly. "What did he have to say?"

"He thinks there might be a way to get everyone out. He's going to send me everything by the end of the day."

"Good. Then we can start preparing to leave this hell hole."

Em stood up and walked to the window. "I don't know."

Dave was flummoxed by her answer. "What do you mean 'I don't know'?"

"This has been my home. I raised Claire here. Now I have to run away."

"You're preserving and saving your lives," he corrected. "There is no shame or blame in that. You need to go back home."

Her eyes were sad. "And where is that?"

Dave stepped closer and took her hand. "It's wherever you want it to be."

"Right now…" She shook her head. "I really don't know." She dragged a hand thru her hair. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Can we talk about last night?"

"What about last night?"

"I was surprised that you came to me. I mean, after all we've been through." He cupped her cheek and realized how perfectly it fit in the palm of his hand.

"I know what you mean, but I…" She tried to put into words the way that she was feeling. "I thought it was time for us to bury the hatchet."

Dave smiled. "I see."

"You said it yourself that we have been given a second chance. And we don't get many second chances."

"Are you ready for what comes next?" he asked. "Because holding you and making love to you for one night is never going to be enough for me."

"I know."

Dave caressed Em's hair. "I won't lie and say that I never thought this moment would ever happen. I prayed for it. But I'm a realist, Em. I want to know what's waiting down the road. I want it all."

"I'm sure that we can work it out."

"If we both work at it, I know that it _will_ work out. The question is: how badly do we want it?" He felt her tense up. "But," he added quickly, "I think the best thing for us right now is baby steps."

She nodded. "I can deal with that."

Silence fell between them. Each wanted to hold on to the moment before it went away.

"I talked to Mother."

Dave felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Oh? What did the Ambassador have to say?"

"As soon as the weather clears, she's coming out here to get Claire. And…" Em hesitated to finish relaying the conversation.

"And what?"

"And…she wants us to go with her."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Em took a deep breath. "I'm not going with her."

"What did you say?"

"You're going with Claire when Mother gets here."

Fear filled his gut. "And where are you going to be?" He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"I'm staying here. I have to help coordinate the evacuation process."

"The hell you are!" he growled. "Everyone leaves!"

Em raised herself up to look him in the eyes. "I'm following orders. I don't have a choice."

"No, Em! You go with Claire, and I will stay here."

Her eyes blazed with anger. "You can't; you're not an ambassador."

"Maybe not," he conceded, "but my obligation is to guard and protect every American."

"And so is my job. I can't abandon my post. At least not until help arrives."

"And if it doesn't?" he challenged.

"You tell Claire that I love her. And make sure she goes to Georgetown," she replied in what she hope was her best attempt at nonchalance.

Dave stepped back and counted to ten. "The hell I will! You're getting out of here! I don't care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming on to the plane or boat or what ever the hell form of transportation they decide to send."

"And if they don't send anything? Then what, Dave? Do we swim out of here? Run? Our options are limited."

"And because of those options - or rather lack of options - you're giving up?"

"I'm not giving up," she defended passionately.

"It sounds to me that you are. What's going really going on, Em? What happened after I came downstairs?" he asked, but he was pretty sure that he knew what made her change her mind.

Em looked down at her hand and fought not to pick at her cuticles. "I just…I did some thinking. If something were to happen, I want one of us to get out of here alive."

"You never struck me as a fatalist," he countered.

"I am trying to look at this from a logical point of view."

"Which is…?" he fished for something to explain what he was missing with her attitude. "Help me, here. I'm not understanding what you are trying to tell me."

"My job is representing America. That job entails that I defend all Americans, and…do everything I can to protect them."

"Bullshit!"

"I'm not going to argue about this, Dave." She turned around. She couldn't face him.

Dave reached out and grabbed her arm. "You're not leaving! I want to know what made you change your mind. Two days ago you were ready to do everything you could to get out of here. Now you want to stay, but you want me to leave. Explain to me what is going on."

"There is nothing to explain. I made some decisions last night that needed to be made. And I am good with it." She pulled away from his grasp.

"What if I said I didn't want Claire unless I have you too? Would that change your mind?" he threw at her.

"Dave…"

"Emily, I've never stopped loving you. Even when I was going thru hell and throwing things away, you still had my heart. There is nothing I won't do for you, but I won't leave you behind. I won't let you die."

"You may not have a say in this. My orders are clear. Charles is sending transport and will want the non-essential personnel to leave. After that, I will follow," her tone was cold as ice, and her gaze just as chilly. "My authority as an ambassador outranks you. If you don't like it, call Charles Keifer and tell him. But he's already informed me what needs to be done and I cannot resign."

"Heh," Dave snorted.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Here I thought we had finally crossed that line and found a way to connect. But letting me make love to you was your way of putting me exactly where you wanted as you pull the rug out from under me," he said. Em crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought you were better than that."

"What can I say? I learned from the best," she replied.

Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope. "I was going to hold on to this. But considering the way you changed the game, I guess I won't be needing it now." He handed it to Em. Reluctantly, she took it.

"Let me know when you get word from D.C. so I can help Claire pack."

Em nodded, but she didn't speak.

"Okay," he conceded. "I know when to take my cue." He walked across the study. "I thought we connected and I was going to say that I love you. But I realized why should I, when you obviously don't feel the same?" With more force than he intended, Dave slammed the door behind him.

"I love you," she whispered to the empty room.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Dave gets his second wind._**

* * *

**One Hello**

Dave yanked the few items from the closet and pulled them off the hangers. In Italian, he muttered curses. But even that didn't help the pain that was invading his heart. He had lost. Finally. There was nothing else for him to do but to admit defeat and go home. This was not the way he had expected everything to end. He wanted to stay, but Em had finally forced his hand.

The sound of his phone ringing broke thru his thoughts. Grabbing it, he hit enter.

"Rossi," he snapped into the receiver.

"Dave? It's Hotch. Is everything okay?"

Dave stopped what he was doing and closed his eyes. Leave it to Hotch to call right when he needed a moment of sanity.

"Hi, Aaron. And to answer your question: everything is not alright."

"How is Emily?"

"Pffft. Fine, I guess." Dave sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his face. "There's a lot going on right now…"

"I heard about the bombing."

"It was bad. Our car was near where the explosion went off. It blew out the window and Em was injured, but it wasn't serious."

"I saw it on the news. What precautions are being taken at the embassy?" Hotch asked.

Dave shrugged. "I've spoken with the CIA and they are working on getting a few more agents over here."

"And Emily?"

"She's been going ten rounds with Charles Keifer. We're still here, so that should explain everything." Dave turned toward the duffel bag and placed some clothing inside. "Not to sound rude, but why the phone call? Are you summoning me home?" he quipped sarcastically.

"Actually, Reid and I are in Germany," Hotch replied honestly.

"Wait! What are you doing in Germany?" Dave stopped packing and tried to figure out what his friend was telling him.

"Trying to save you and Emily. And you should know, too, that Ambassador Prentiss accompanied us."

Elizabeth Prentiss. That could only mean one thing: they were going to die. "Things are bad here, but I don't think we need the Ambassador," he argued. "Besides, I'm getting out of here. I'm taking Claire with me."

"Back up! What do you mean? I thought…"

"Em gave me permission to take Claire and get her to safety. We leave tomorrow," Dave interrupted.

"I don't think that is going to happen." Cold and final. They were doomed.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Dave closed his eyes and braced for the worst.

"No."

"Spill it."

"Things _are _that bad," Hotch corrected. "Jacob Rabin, who is with the Israeli State Department in D.C., met us here with the news that a bounty has been placed on the heads of all foreigners." He waited a moment to let the words sink in before continuing.

"Shit."

"And it gets worse."

"I'm not sure how that could be possible. We're in the bowels of hell at this moment," Dave returned.

"Americans are at the top of the list."

"That explains everything from the bombing to Emily's mood."

"Emily's mood?" Hotch asked stupidly.

"After she spoke with Keifer, she went from hot to cold. Now I know why."

"I'm not sure what caused that, but I know it wasn't this because I just found out myself."

"You lost me, Aaron. You know about this bounty, but our government doesn't? How is that possible?"

"That's being taken care of while we speak, I suppose."

"Have you spoken with Em?"

"I'm calling you first. We were going to try and fly out tomorrow, but the snow is grounding the planes. If the news we got from Israeli Intelligence is accurate, the closest we'll be able to get to you is Israel," Hotch said. "Jacob is working on transporting everyone from Jordan to Israel."

Dave shook his head. "I was wrong, this has gotten worse."

"How are things?"

Another shrug. "I thought everything was going good, but the call this morning changed it all." He sighed. "I don't know what I have to do to let her know that I'm not the same person from four years ago."

"You're there right now," Hotch reminded him. "That says everything. How's Claire?"

"A jewel. Em let me tell her the truth."

"How did she take it?"

"As well as any three year old could, I suppose. She shared her cereal with me."

"That's a step in the right direction," Hotch complimented.

"At least one of the Prentiss women likes me," Dave snorted. "When is this expected to go down?"

"Christmas Day."

Dave gave another snort. "Why does that not surprise me? The best way for them to make a statement."

"True."

"So, I'm staying." Dave looked at the room. His mind started turning.

"You don't sound like this is what you wanted to hear."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dave's mouth. "Quite the contrary, Aaron; this is exactly what I needed to hear." He stood up. "How much information does Rabin have on our suspected terrorists."

"It's more than I had expected," Hotch answered honestly.

"Have him send it to Emily. Make sure that he does it right away. If these guys are serious, they are going to start small and then go big. When they do, the comm is going to be the first thing they cut. Electricity will be second."

"I got it." Hotch wrote it down quickly.

"I'm not sure how fast this thing is going to crumble, but we have weapons and ammunition enough to at least hold down the first wave for a little while," Dave rattled off what he had found by making rounds and inspecting the embassy grounds.

"What if you have to take in Americans?"

"This place can hold fifty, easily. We can fit more if necessary. The basement is reinforced and can hold off anyone until help arrives."

"Are you positive?" Hotch asked.

Dave reached for his Glock. "I've very serious, Aaron. Have Garcia send you the blueprints of the embassy and the grounds. That way, if anything happens, you can access the building easily."

"Dave…"

"Aaron, I'm doing what I need to do. There is no way out of here, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let someone take my family away from me. Nor will I let them shed American blood for a cause that is complete bullshit." Dave paused. Took a breath. "If anything happens, I left my final instructions with Emily."

Hotch felt his stomach fall. It was the same feeling he had had when Haley was telling him good-bye. "Dave…"

"Tell Em that I love her. Do that for me."

"I will," Hotch replied in a tight voice. "We'll be there. I promise."

"I know you will. Bye, Aaron." Dave hit end. Turning the Glock around in his hands, he inspected the outside, then he ejected the magazine to count the rounds. Nearly full, plus the one in the chamber. Slapping the magazine back in, he made sure the safety was on before securing it in its holster. Determination replaced the look of defeat on Dave's face.

No one was coming to save them. They were on their own. It was time to bring the fight to the enemy.


	31. Chapter 31

**One Hello**

"Emily, something serious has happened," fear was in Charles Keifer's voice.

Em's hand paused in the middle of the signature she was putting to the numerous sheets of paper stacked on her desk. She had been surprised to get a second call from the Secretary of State in one day.

"What's wrong?"

"How reinforced is the embassy?" he expertly side-stepped the point of his call. Something that did not get past the expert profiler.

"Why are you avoiding my question?"

"I need to know how reinforced the embassy is," he repeated.

"We're sound. Why do you need to know? What's happened?" Fear gripped her and made her blood run cold.

"It's not good. We got word from Israeli Intelligence that there may be an attack planned around Christmas Day," he relayed.

The pen slipped from Em's fingers. "What?!"

"It's been confirmed and authenticated," he continued. "It's also been reported that there's a bounty on the heads of all foreigners. Americans are at the top of the list," he added as an afterthought.

"Are you sure?" she asked calmly as her patrician upbringing kicked in. Emulating her mother, Em donned the untouchable presence that had made Elizabeth Prentiss one of the most successful and respected Ambassadors in the world.

"I am. The State Department verified it right before I called you. I've forwarded this on to the President. We're working on a solution."

"What about the people who are here? What's going to be done to get them out?" Em's mind raced with scenarios and outcomes. She might be an ambassador, but she was still a profiler at heart, and there was always a solution. No matter how bad the scene or the case, there was always a way to work it out and get an answer.

"At this moment, honestly, nothing."

"Charles!"

"Emily, listen," he pleaded. "We're working on a plan. There are two carriers out in the Pacific that could be there in a day or so. Israel is going to provide air support if necessary. Right now, our concern is getting all the Americans to safety."

"They'll be coming here," Em surmised. Sixty Americans and nationals without any embassy to house them. It would be a tight fit, but they could manage until troops arrived. They would have to stay in the main house.

"You have guards and reinforced walls. How would you rank the amount of weapons?"

"We're good," she replied shortly. But inside, she was seething. Right now was not the time to completely lose control. She would meet up with Charles soon enough, and then she could unleash on him. But the main thing she needed to do was keep him on her side. Rocking the boat would not benefit anyone.

"When can we expect help to arrive?" Em wondered.

"I will try to get everything to you by the end of the day. SECNAV is coordinating the rescue and evacuation procedures. The earliest would be Christmas Day. If the weather holds out."

Em let out her breath. "I'll be expecting them."

"Take care, Emily."

Without a response, Em hung up the phone. Swallowing a couple of times, she tried to keep the bile at bay. But no amount of swallowing or keeping calm was going to soothe the butterflies or stop the roiling her stomach was doing.

"Em?" Dave asked after knocking. He walked inside. One look at her pale face told him that she already knew. Immediately, he was by her side. "Are you okay?"

"No." She shook her head. How humiliating could things get? She had lost her lunch in front of Morgan, and now she was going to lose breakfast in front of Dave.

Dave grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. "Come on."

He guided her to the bathroom adjacent to the office. Politely, he turned his head as retching filled the small room. Turning on the tap, he soaked a washcloth under the cold water until it was damp. He waited until Em was finished.

Exhausted, Em ran the back of her hand over her mouth as she rocked back on her heels, then sat down on the cold, hard tile.

Dave flushed the toilet, before kneeling down beside her. "Here," he offered and wiped her face and mouth.

"We're going to die," she whispered.

"We're going to be okay," Dave assured her. "It's going to be alright."

She shook her head. "I can feel it. We're going to die." She sniffed as the tears broke free. "It's all my fault."

"Shhh, Em. It's no one's fault. It's bad, but we are going to survive." He brushed the tears away with his thumb.

"What if we don't?"

"I spoke with Hotch, just a few minutes ago. He and Reid and your mother are in Germany. They are working on getting out here. He's making phone calls. Jacob Rabin, the Israeli Intelligence Officer, is coordinating a rescue. We have people working for us."

Em looked up at Dave. The sadness was clear and evident in her almond brown eyes. "What if they aren't?"

He had thought the same thing. He had played that scenario a few times over in his head as he came downstairs. It was possible. But that didn't make it probable. The dark forces that had hold on the city couldn't win - not when there was so much good happening to defeat it.

"You have me, Em. I said it before, and I'll say it again: There is nothing that I won't do for you or Claire. If I have to lay my life down to save you both, then I do it gladly." He brushed the stray hair back from Em's face.

"I love you. And I love our daughter."

"Dave, I'm scared." Her lip trembled from emotion.

"I understand. You need to be strong. I'm behind you." He crooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded. "I do."

"Then we are going to make it." He kissed her forehead, careful to avoid the stitches, then he drew her into his arms for a comforting hug.

Letting go, Em wept all of her fear and anger until she was limp and hiccupping sobs were all that was left. It didn't change anything, but she couldn't deny that she didn't feel better.

Dave reached over and pulled down a few sheets of toilet paper and handed it to her. Em blew her nose loudly enough to make him smile.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah." She threw the used tissue in the toilet.

"Come here," he invited and held his arms open. Willingly, she went into them. Safe and secure, he could never get enough of the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. He could stay like this forever.

"Dave?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did you say that my mother is with Hotch?"


	32. Chapter 32

_Sorry this took so long. Between double shifts, snow and ice storms, I have had little sleep. I know I'm dragging out the story, but Morgan and Garcia wanted to be heard. And I thought you might want to see their inner struggles. Now, maybe they will let me sleep!_

* * *

**One Hello**

JJ clutched the folder tightly in her hand and let out her breath in a relieved sigh. Her heels made a clicking sound on the tiled floor as she hurried down the familiar hallways of the J Edgar Hoover Building. Her meeting with the FBI and CIA directors had been a success, and she needed to thank the person who had made it possible.

Turning the corner, she went down one more hallway, around another corner to the door of the secret lair. Knocking twice, she waited, then entered.

"Are you decent?" JJ joked, closing the door behind her.

Pen spun around in her chair. "Buttercup!" she exclaimed and rushed to grab JJ in an unexpected hug. "I didn't know you were coming here!"

"Ooof! I wanted to surprise you." JJ looked over and saw Morgan sitting on the edge of the desk. "Hey, Derek!"

"Hi, Jayje," he returned with a bright smile before standing to envelope her in a bear hug. "It's so good to see you."

"You too. What brings you here?" JJ pulled back.

He pointed to Pen. "The same thing." He eyed the folder. "Good news, I hope."

JJ smiled. "It is. Sort of," she amended. "It's about Emily."

Pen bit her lip. "Tell me that the emails and telegrams made a difference."

"They did."

"Did they want to know how you obtained them?" Pen's eyes shifted guiltily.

JJ gave a half laugh. "They did. But I didn't tell them anything." She grabbed a rolling chair and sat down. "I want Emily and Rossi out of there, but not at the cost of your job."

"Thanks."

"Mama, what did you do?"

Pen lifted her chin in defiance. "Nothing you wouldn't have done." Morgan raised his eyebrows in question. She sat down. "Okay. Okay. I…hacked Emily's computer and downloaded all of her correspondence," she confessed.

"You what?!"

"She would have sent them!" she argued. "If she wasn't busy trying to protect and save dozens of lives." She gave a beseeching smile.

"Oh, Mama…" Morgan gave an exasperated sigh while shaking his head. "You didn't."

"Well, if they find out, it won't be from me," JJ said. "And I'm sure that when all is said and done, Emily will thank you."

"Speaking of Emily," Derek turned his eyes toward JJ, "how is she?"

"I don't know. I spoke to Hotch, though. And Jacob is working on getting them to Israel. Right now they are still stalled in Germany. It's something about paperwork holding them up." She held back that the embassy in Germany didn't think it was safe for travel and was holding up the military transport plane. With any luck and a push, it was possible that the president could intervene. Until it was for sure, she couldn't divulge that information. Not even to her closest friends. It was a matter of National Security.

"I can't imagine what the Ambassador is going through," Pen murmured. "She must be worried out of her mind."

"I'm sure she's dealing with it in a diplomatic fashion," Morgan comforted. "Any other word?"

"No." JJ pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I know that there was an evacuation to the embassy. Now it's a waiting game."

"Hotch isn't going to let anything happen to them!" Pen protested.

"Hotch may not get there in time."

"He has to! We've done it before!" she argued passionately. "Remember all the times we thought there was no hope and somehow a miracle happened at the last minute? How is this different?" In her mind, there was _no_ difference. None whatsoever.

"This isn't the same, Penelope," Morgan comforted. "There is a lot more at stake, and the UNSUBs have powerful weapons and a death wish. You can't defeat that."

Pen blinked back her tears. Reaching for the framed picture of Emily and Claire on her desk, she hugged it to her breast. "I have to believe. I have to…" The memory of when she was in the hospital after getting shot flashed in her mind. She remembered hearing that she had flat-lined and the doctor shouting orders. She had thought about going toward the light, but something had held her back. She was sure it had been her friends' faith and prayers that had helped see her back where she belonged. She owed Emily that much in return.

"Emily had faith when I was in the hospital," Pen's voice cracked. "I know that Rossi pulled a few strings with the Man Upstairs… I don't know if I believe like they do, but I have to have faith that something or someone is going to protect them and bring them back home." Her lips trembled.

JJ reached over and clasped Pen's hand. "It's going to be okay," she assured. "They'll be okay."

Pen's brown eyes were sad and mournful. "Can you really say that and believe it?" Her eyes searched JJ's for truth and comfort.

"I can."

Pen turned her head to look at Morgan. "Can you?"

Morgan started to agree with JJ, then stopped. Deep down inside he was conflicted. So many years ago he had lost his faith in a "higher power" when everything from his dad to his innocence had been violently ripped away. He couldn't believe that there was still good out there when evil seemed to be lurking around every corner. He had seen the worst, and Pen and Hotch had experienced the worst. There could be no God that would allow all of this to happen.

Now Emily and Rossi were in the middle of hell with their daughter. Their lives were in danger and help was too far away to assist if things fell apart. How could he find faith in the fact that his friends could die? How could he not? There was a part of him that wished he could teleport Emily out and leave Rossi behind. There was no forgiving what the bastard had done. He was the reason Emily was in this predicament.

Except whenever he went down that road, his dad's voice nagged in the back of his head and told him to let it go; it was time to move on. Besides, wasn't it Rossi who had warned that Fran had an undiagnosed heart problem? Right or wrong, he had saved her life.

Morgan closed his eyes and tried to find his balance. There was no arguing with his dad. He sighed. Rossi was a jerk and a bastard, but he didn't deserve to die by the hands of al Qaeda. No one did.

He opened his eyes. Grabbing Pen's free hand, he held tighter than he should, but he needed to absorb her and JJ's faith. He started to speak, but Pen gasped.

"What?" he was confused.

"I see it in your eyes…"

"It's not what you think, Baby Girl." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I have faith that they will come home." He paused. "Even Rossi," he added with a small smile.

Pen nodded. And smiled.


	33. Chapter 33

**One Hello**

Standing in the shadows of the outside corner of the embassy building, Dave's trained eye watched for any movement that was out of the ordinary. After the day he and Emily had had, he welcomed the still quiet that the evening brought – even if the outer city limits were disrupted by spontaneous gunfire and shouting. The wind shifted and brought the faint smell of burning oil to assault his senses.

It had been chaotic once the crowds started filtering inside, but Em had drawn on her patrician upbringing and took control. Within a half hour, she had divided everyone into respective areas and took down vital information that would be forwarded to the State Department – no matter the result of the outcome.

There had been tears of fright and many questions, but Julia had helped calm fears by making sure everyone was fed and with a place to rest. Afterward, Dave took the men aside and helped determine who would be best to have on the front lines. Anyone with sharpshooter experience was teamed with the Marine guards and divided into watch sections. He took the lesser experienced under his wing. They were on the second watch that were patrolling the embassy grounds and standing near the walls in case all hell broke loose.

Dave puffed on his cigarillo. He didn't think that the enemy would be so low as to attack in the dead of night, but he had seen first hand the carnage they were capable of, and he put nothing past them. He had seen it first hand in Tehran, and those lessons so horribly learned were never forgotten.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the soft sound of approaching footsteps. Stubbing out the cigar, he went on high alert. Out of habit, his hand rested on the butt of his service weapon.

"It's me," Em whispered her greeting. Dave relaxed. Just a bit. "I thought you might need a pick me up." She handed him the mug. "It's tea; we ran out of coffee," she explained and shivered.

Dave cautiously sipped the hot liquid. "Thanks. It's hot, and it's keeping my fingers warm, so I don't mind."

Em looked up at the stars that decorated the midnight blue sky. "Deceiving, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The night and the way it draws you into this protective embrace. You almost feel as though you can relax." She drew herself deeper into the heavy sweater.

"I know what you mean." Dave turned the mug around in his hands. "I gather everything is in order where our guests are concerned?"

She nodded. "I emailed everything. I also tried to call Hotch, but the lines were down. I'll try again in the morning."

"You held it together today when everything was a mad house," he complimented. "I liked that 'take charge' Emily Prentiss."

"Thanks. I wish I felt that way inside."

"Scared?"

"Terrified," she corrected. "I have been trained for situations not unlike this, but I…" She sighed. "This…I don't know. I think I missed that day at the FBI Academy," she weakly joked.

"We were trained as investigators and profilers, not crowd control," he corrected her description. "There is a difference."

"We were taught to keep our cool and maintain a sense of apathy when approaching a situation. But right now, I don't know if I can keep it up."

"It's almost over."

"I know. I think that's why I'm terrified. There's a part of me that knows help is almost here and we will all live…"

"But?" he prompted.

"The realistic part of me knows that there are going to be casualties."

"That's reasonable," he agreed.

"I don't want anyone to die. I want…"

"Emily…"

She held up her hand to stop what she knew what coming. "I know, Dave. I've worked too many FBI cases to know that not everything gets wrapped up in fancy paper and topped with a bow. But I'm selfish; I want a happy ending. I want to be able to return every single person here to their families. Is that wrong?" Her voice was tight with emotion.

"It's not wrong; it's human."

"Do you regret coming out here?" she asked suddenly.

"To Jordan?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "No" He sipped the tea that was quickly cooling.

"You could have been at home in your mansion, or in your cabin by the lake, celebrating Christmas with Mudgie…"

"Mudgie passed away last year," he interrupted softly.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears over the loss of her friend. "I didn't know."

Dave shrugged. "He had cancer of the jaw. It was almost over before it began." He brought the mug to his lips, but his hand shook. "I'm thankful that he didn't suffer."

Em reached out and touched Dave's arm. "Me too. He was a great dog."

"Yeah." The pain of loss was evident in that one small word.

"But still… You could be in Virginia celebrating Christmas…not here dodging bullets and bombs," she finished. "You could have said no."

"I chose to come here."

She blinked in disbelief. "What?"

"I chose to come here," he repeated. "Yes, the orders were proposed to me, but I had the opportunity to turn them down. Especially when I heard that it was you I would be guarding." He finished the tea and set the mug on the window ledge. "And no one would have blamed me."

"So, why didn't you?" Em wondered as her eyes searched his.

"Because I needed to see you again. I needed to tell myself that what we had was over and you were just a job." Hurt and anger flashed quickly in Em's eyes. "But when I saw you at the door looking like you did the last time I saw you…" he continued. "I knew that whatever I had tried to tell myself was just a lie."

Dave crooked his finger under Em's chin and raised her face.

"I never stopped loving you."

The sound of a bomb detonating in the distance broke the silence.

"I was angry that you kept our daughter from me, but after seeing the way you raised her, I couldn't have done half the job you did. She's beyond remarkable. You should be proud of yourself." His face softened. "You were meant to be a mother and a protector. And that is why I know that you will give everything you have to make sure everyone gets home alive."

"Dave…"

"Remember Matthew's case?" he asked. Em nodded. "I went to Father Jimmy to ask for guidance. I knew what the Church taught, and I knew what the law was, but I was torn. No one was helping you as you swam in that ocean of deceit and betrayal all by yourself. And I felt the need to rescue you. You had had my back, and now I was going to have yours."

"But Dave, this is different…"

"A vow is a vow. See, I vowed to Father Jimmy that I would protect you. I thought it was just for that case, but after it was done, I kept shadowing you. Only twice did I break my vow. The first was with Doyle…"

"You didn't break it, Dave, I refused to let anyone in," she hurriedly explained.

"I know that. But the second time…" His heart constricted at the memory of how he had betrayed and nearly destroyed her that horrible night. "I was wrong, Em. I broke my vow. And now this is where I am."

"You think your punishment is standing outside to battle the forces of al Qaeda?" she asked in disbelief. "Isn't that a little arrogant?"

"It would fit nicely in with the 'fussy, anal-retentive, neat freak' title," he quipped. "No. I think this is my destiny. Or a chance to make up for past sins."

"You are not going to die on me!" she bit out.

"I like to believe that our fate rests in God's hands." His thumb brushed away the stray tears that coursed down her cheeks. "Did you open that letter I gave you?"

"No."

"I don't want you to open until this whole thing is over," he ordered gruffly. "I love you, Em. There hasn't been a moment that I haven't…it all started that day in the bullpen when you 'sir'd' me. I was stupid to let you go. And if we get out of this alive, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Em's mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a logical response.

"It's getting late." Dave leaned in and kissed her forehead tenderly. "You need to get some rest. My shift will be over in a little while. Is Claire sleeping with you?"

"Yes."

"Go be with our daughter so she isn't frightened." He handed her the empty mug. "Goodnight, Em." He began to walk away.

"Goodnight," she returned. Heading for the French doors, she paused, then turned around for one more look as Dave disappeared into the darkness.

She said a quick prayer that the morning would bring answers, but right now, she needed to sleep.

Unless the unexpected revelations kept her awake.


	34. Chapter 34

_This is just a filler chapter. Though it's not one of my better ones, I had to try and explain what causes Em and Dave to make their fateful decisions later on. And though Claire may sound older than 3 ½, remember that she's been surrounded by adults all of her life, and it's been proven that children subjected to that, do have a greater vocabulary and broader thinking process._

* * *

**One Hello**

Claire sat in the middle of the full sized bed, reached for her doll, and tried not to cry. Something bad was happening, but she didn't know what. The house had filled with more people than she could count – and she could count to twenty! – and suddenly her parents were busy. There had been a few children to play with, but they didn't want to leave their mommies, so she stayed in the kitchen with Julia, and played with her dolls.

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke to find herself in her mommy's bed and all alone. Though a part of her wanted to go out and find her, she knew the rule: When guests were present, she was to stay in her room unless told otherwise.

A small light filled the room.

"Hi, Claire," Ray greeted.

"Where did you go?" she asked. "You've been gone for days and days."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "How are you?"

"I want Mommy," she whined, her lower lip trembled.

"Where is your mommy?" he inquired and looked around the room.

"I don't know. She's not here."

"I'm sure she's around somewhere. How are you?"

"I'm scared."

"I know you are. Everything is going to be alright," he comforted.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Are you okay?"

"Mr. Dave is my daddy," she blurted out suddenly.

Ray smiled. "He is? Did he tell you that?"

"Yeah. He had to go 'way."

Ray was confused. "Is he gone?"

She shook her head. "No. He's here."

"Oh. How does that make you feel?"

"I don't know." She gave a shrug.

"You always wanted a daddy," he reminded her. "Is he nice to you?"

"Yes."

"And your mommy?"

"She still cries. Bad men want to get us."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Mommy told Mr. Dave."

"I don't think…"

"Is Mommy going to die?"

"Claire…"

"I don't want Mommy to die," she pleaded. "Tell God that I said no."

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you can! You're an angel. Angels are good," she argued.

Ray tried to think of a response. He wanted to reassure his charge that nothing was going to happen to Emily, but with it being out of his hands, he would be lying. And he couldn't do that. But he didn't want to see her suffer, either.

"Is that your doll?" he asked and changed the subject. Claire nodded. "What's her name?"

"Gwendolyn."

"That's a pretty name for a pretty doll," he complimented.

"Grand-mere gave her to me. I'm s'pose to take care of her because she's my baby," Claire explained. She smoothed down the gold curls and rocked her gently.

"I'm sure you take care of her very well." Ray looked at the doll. "Is she asleep?" he asked.

Claire looked down. "Yes."

"I think you need to sleep, too," he suggested.

"I want Mommy to come back."

"Maybe if you lie down and close your eyes, she'll be back."

Claire hesitated. After a quick debate, she sighed and scooted to the top of the mattress and crawled under the covers. Settled in, she yawned.

"Now close your eyes," Ray said.

"And Mommy will come back?" she yawned again.

"I promise."

"Do you have to go?" she asked sleepily. She held her doll in a vise like grip.

"I do."

"'kay. Ray?"

"Yes, Claire?"

"Tell God what I told you. Promise?"

He nodded. "I promise. Now sleep." He waited until her breathing evened out before making his exit.

He wasn't sure how he was going to present Claire's request, but he was going to give it all he had.

********

Em opened the door softly and peeked inside. Her eyes searched the darkness until she found her daughter lying fast asleep on the bed. Only then did she release the breath she was holding.

Closing the door, she tiptoed across the carpeted floor to the bed, where she kicked off her boots before crawling under the covers. Careful not to wake Claire, Em shifted until she found a comfortable position. Then she pulled the child into her arms and held on for dear life.

She didn't want to be afraid. She didn't want anything to happen to Claire or to Dave. She had decided to lay her life down for her country if it meant saving her daughter, but Dave's declaration made her doubt that decision. She owed their child more than a legacy of being a martyr. And holding her only reinforced her decision.

But that didn't mean if anything threatened her family she wouldn't fight to the death. God help anyone who tried to hurt them!

Closing her eyes, she felt herself drifting off where thoughts and fears were replaced by the comfort of sleep. She felt herself floating away when the soft rap on the door brought her back.

"Em?" Dave asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you asleep?"

"Yes. No. What's wrong?" she tried to sit up, but exhaustion overwhelmed her.

"Nothing." He closed the door quietly. "I wanted to make sure you were alright." As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he saw the two figures lying in the middle of the bed.

"We're okay."

"Is she asleep?"

"Yes." Em faded out.

"Okay." He turned to leave.

Startled back to consciousness, she blindly reached for Dave. "Dave? Don't go." He hesitated. "Stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Stay with us," she implored.

He didn't need a second invitation. Removing his boots, Dave pulled off his socks, and placed his holster on the chair, and gun on the nightstand.

Carefully he eased himself under the covers, before he automatically reached out to make sure his weapon was within reach. Reassured, he lay down and turned to fit against Em's slight form. His arm protectively went around Em and Claire.

"Better?" he whispered in Em's ear.

"Yes. Hmmm, Dave…"

Pressing a kiss to her hair, Dave breathed in Em's delicate scent and tried to commit it to memory.

"Go to sleep, Em. Let me do the worrying," he ordered. She didn't need a second prompting. Within a minute, she was fast asleep. Her light snoring filled the silent room. Dave tried to make a mental note to tease her about it later, but he too was asleep before the thought was complete.


	35. Chapter 35

**One Hello**

The first morning in the American Embassy after the previous day's migration started early. Calmness and acceptance replaced the fear and apprehension from yesterday, although there was still weeping and too many questions that didn't have answers. And the feel of terror was still heavy in the air, but determination and the will to survive was slowly edging it out.

Within an hour of dawn breaking, Em and Dave had outlined a plan of attack that detailed the steps everyone was expected to take should there be an attack. Once they approached the situation as they did when profiling an UNSUB, things began to fall into place.

Immediately after breakfast, everyone was gathered into the oversized ballroom for the breakdown. Questions were answered swiftly, then everyone was assigned to groups with a leader and an alternate. When, not if, things went bad, at least there would be control.

Returning to her office to finish up paperwork, Em placed another call to Charles Keifer. Ten minutes, and one brisk conversation later, she hung up the receiver. At least the carriers were on their way. One day out, and planes on stand-by, at least she could lay one fear to rest.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the receiver and dialed the number Pen had given her via email. Patiently she waited as the double rings sounded.

"Israeli Embassy," the female voice greeted. "How may I direct your call?"

"This is Ambassador Emily Prentiss calling from the American embassy in Amman, Jordan. May I speak with Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss?"

"Yes, Ambassador. We've been expecting your call. Please hold," the woman hurriedly instructed. Thirty seconds later, the call was connected.

"Emily?!" the familiar voice of Elizabeth Prentiss came over the line.

"Hello, Mother," Em greeted with more calm than she actually felt.

"Oh, God! It's so good to hear your voice! Are you alright? What's happening?"

Usually so calm and collect, Em was taken aback by the sudden rush of words from the woman who was her mother. Never had the Ambassador lost her dignity or pose – not even when she was threatened at two of her posts by terror groups. She always maintained the ability to hold her head up and stay proud. But something was different; was that a catch in the unflappable Elizabeth's voice?

"We're fine, Mother. Of course, you know that I cannot get into what is happening, but I can reassure you that everyone is safe and sound." _For now_, Em finished silently.

"Have you heard from Charles Keifer?"

"Yes. Yes, I have. We spoke this morning. The carriers are approximately a day away. Planes are set on stand-by if we need them. How are you?"

"I'm…I'm…holding my own," Elizabeth confessed hesitantly. "I'm worried."

"There is nothing to be worried about, Mother. Dave and I have it under control. And I am sure that Hotch is working his magic to get you to Israel."

"He's been very kind and helpful. But what about you? Can you leave? Is it safe?"

Em shook her head. "We can't leave. I am sure you know about the bounty. We were given one day to move everyone to the embassy. And until the military arrives, there is no way to evacuate."

"So you know, Jacob Rabin is trying to get us a flight out tomorrow…"

"Stay there, Mother," Em ordered. "There is too much going on right now, and more people will only add to the confusion."

"Emily…"

"No, Mother. Germany is where you need to stay. If anything happens, I'm sure that Hotch will arrange transportation to get you where you need to be."

"I just want to be there. There must be something I can do!"

"I understand, but there is nothing you can do. We are okay. I promise." Em heard the sniffle on the other end. "Are you crying?"

"No. I…I have a cold," she explained.

"It's going around."

"How's Claire?" The subject was mercifully changed.

Em let out a short laugh. "She's great. A chip off the Prentiss block. She's taking charge of the smaller children and leading them. I'm afraid she might be the future director of the FBI, someday."

"Or an ambassador," Elizabeth supplied.

"Heaven help us. She does take after Dave in some aspects, so, she might surprise all of us and join the Marines."

"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that."

"It's okay, Mother; it _is_ the 21st century."

Elizabeth sighed dramatically. "I suppose we will cross that bridge when we come to it." A slight pause, then she continued, "How is Agent Rossi?"

"He's fine. He's busy meeting with the Watch Captains right now."

"I'm not sure how I feel about him being there…"

"I understand. We have…settled some things."

"You're not going to return to him, are you?" Elizabeth's tone was horrified by the possibility.

"Mother, I don't think this is the time," Em protested. "We are doing our job."

"He hurt you, Emily. Have you forgotten?"

"No, Mother, I haven't. But he and I crossed that bridge. We need to work things out for Claire. I need to trust him."

"So, he knows?"

Em closed her eyes and muttered a small prayer under her breath before replying, "He knew just by looking at her. And I couldn't lie to him. I-" A knock interrupted her. "Hold on, Mother." She covered the mouthpiece. "Yes?" she called out.

"It's only us," Dave greeted. In his arms was their daughter.

Em covered the receiver. "Come in. Claire, would you like to speak to Grand-mere?"

"Yes!" Dave set her on her feet. Holding tight to her doll, the little girl ran across the floor to where Em sat. Climbing into her mother's lap, Claire settled and reached for the phone.

"Grand-mere?"

"Hello, Claire! How's my precious girl?"

"Good. Where are you? Are you coming to get us?" Claire implored pathetically.

"Oh, darling, I'm working on it."

"I want you here," she pouted.

"I know you do," Elizabeth consoled. "Are you being good?"

"Yes. Grand-mere, did you know that Mr. Dave doesn't like lima beans?"

"No, I didn't. You don't like them, if I remember."

Claire made a face. "I don't. Can I see you for Christmas?"

"I don't know. I'm going to try."

"It's two days away."

"It is?"

"I wrote my letter to Santa."

"I'm sure he's going to bring you everything you want."

"I got my doll; I don't need anything."

"That's good. You hold on to her and don't lose her."

"I won't. I promise. I love you."

"I love you, too, angel. May I speak to your mommy?"

"Yes." Claire kissed the phone. "Bye!" She handed the receiver back. "Grand-mere wants to speak to you."

"I'm back."

"You take care of her."

"I am, Mother."

"You tell David Rossi that if anything happens to my girls, I will personally deal with him. Is that understood?" the words were delivered in a tight, slightly cadenced tone, but Elizabeth's threat was clear.

"I will tell him." Em looked at her watch. She needed to finish getting things prepared for the evacuation. "Mother, I need to go. Tell Hotch that I will try to call him later."

"Emily?" there was an almost desperate sound to Elizabeth's question.

"Yes?"

"Please take care of yourself. I…I love you."

"I love you, too, Mother. I'll talk to you later." Em hung up the receiver. She hugged Claire. "Did you have a good talk with Grand-mere?"

"Yep! She told me to take care of my doll."

"Ah. And you are doing a very good job." Em kissed Claire's neck. "Did you have your breakfast?"

"I don't like eggs."

"I know. But we are out of cereal."

"Can we go to the store and get some?"

Em shook her head. "We can't leave. It's too dange…it's not safe," she corrected and hoped her daughter didn't notice the slip.

"Mr. Dave can take us."

"We'll see," Em conceded. She lifted Claire and set her on the floor. "Give me a kiss. Why don't you go watch a movie with the other kids while I talk with your dad?"

Claire cast a wary glance between the two adults. She wanted to know what was happening, but she knew that look in her mother's eyes. There was going to be grown up talk.

"Okay." She closed the door behind her.

"She's something else. Just like someone I know."

"I brought you some coffee," Dave handed over the mug. "I thought you could use it."

Em grabbed the mug and took a long sip. "It's heavenly. Where did you find it?"

"Seems I had a couple of the instant packs hidden away in my go bag. Sorry for the taste. I'm not sure when I packed them."

"I don't care. It's delicious."

"What did your mother say?"

"She wishes she could be here and help."

Dave sat down in the leather chair. "Oh, that would definitely turn things on their ear."

"Mother's not that bad," Em insisted.

"She would probably hand me over to the terrorists."

"Actually, she told me to tell you that you are to take care of us. Or else," she finished with a wan smile.

"The Ambassador is a very smart lady, and I have no doubt that she means what she says. I won't let her down. I promise." Dave watched Em's body language. "What's on your mind?"

"The usual: Christmas," she laughed softly. "I don't know what we are going to do."

Leaning forward, he covered her free hand with his. "You'll think of something. But I have a feeling we will be out of here."

"I hope so." Em sipped. "Dave, why do you think Claire calls you 'Mr. Dave'?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I should ask her. Perhaps she doesn't feel comfortable enough to call me 'Dad'." He took the mug and sipped. "Maybe she'll come around."

Em brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm sure she will."

Suddenly a loud explosion shook the building. The overhead lights flickered briefly, then came back on.

"What was that?!" Em cried out and stood up. She headed toward the window when suddenly she was yanked against the wall. "What are you doing?" She pushed against Dave who was pressed against her.

"Stay away from the window!" he ordered.

"They're bulletproof. I just wanted to see…"

"Bulletproof is not RPG proof, Em!" He glanced toward the large windows. He could hear the sound of gun fire and shouting in the streets, but the location of the office didn't afford him a view of the outside world.

"Let me go!"

"No! You stay here and draw the drapes," he ordered. "Don't give a sniper a reason to collect his reward by taking out an Ambassador." He leaned down and kissed Em hard and fast before turning around.

Em caught his arm. "Where are you going?"

"I need to find out where that explosion came from."

"It could have been anything," she hoped, but her gut felt differently.

"It could have," he agreed, "but that was a hell of a blast. And I'm sure there will be more where that came from."

"You think…?" she didn't want to say it aloud. She couldn't or else it would make it real.

He nodded. "I do. You better call and see about getting reinforcements." He hurried to the door.

"Dave?" she called out. He turned back to look at her. "Check on Claire."

"I will." He gave her a wink before disappearing.

Squaring her shoulders, Em pulled the heavy tapestries closed. Immediately the room darkened. She hated not having the sunshine, but it was a matter of safety and security.

Sitting down, she finished her coffee, and started making phone calls.


	36. Chapter 36

_The end is about to begin._

_And for the record, Marines DO cry. They are human, and death is frightening - I don't care who you are or how brave you think you are._

* * *

**One Hello**

"Jim, what's happening?" Dave asked as he ran outside to the courtyard. He quickly scanned the area for the man he had put in charge.

"Dave, I'm not sure at the moment," the average sized blonde man replied. There was a minute of fear in his brown eyes, but determination hardened his features. Distorted sounds came through the walkie-talkie in his hand. "Repeat," he spoke into the receiver.

"_We have a man down."_

"What's your 20?"

"_East wall. We took fire. Bronson's down!"_

"We need to get over there," Dave announced.

"Do we have the fire power to hold them off?" Jim asked.

"We're not exactly rolling in ammo, but we have enough. Come on!" Dave took off toward the fight. Rounding the corner, he pulled up short. All of his training came back as his ears listened for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes moved over every object looking for threats – hidden or otherwise.

Weapon drawn, he cautiously moved across the manicured lawn to where two men were hidden under the large table. Holstering his gun, Dave knelt down beside the prone figure dressed in camouflage.

"Where was he hit?" Automatically he scanned the man's body for apparent injuries. His gaze rested on the red stain spreading quickly across the uniform jacket.

"It came out of nowhere. We were just standing guard when the explosion happened. I thought…"

"What's your name, son?" Dave asked the second Marine who appeared to be shaken by the recent event and who was frantically trying to help his comrade.

"Corporal Brandon, sir."

"Corporal, are you hurt?" Dave parted the material and pulled up the olive green shirt to reveal the injury. He tried to keep his expression neutral. The situation called for calm.

"No, sir. Is he going to be alright?"

Dave assessed the Marine's injuries. He had seen enough bullet wounds to know that the situation was grave, but they still had to do everything they could. "Brandon, I'm going to need you to help me move him into the embassy."

"Should we move him? I read that you shouldn't…" Brandon argued. "We need to get a doctor."

Dave reached out and grabbed the young man's arm. "Brandon! I need you to take a deep breath and remain calm because we are going to have to move him inside. Okay?"

His features ashen, the young man nodded.

"Follow what I do, so we can pick him up. Place your hands here and here." Dave instructed in his best Master Sergeant tone. "Then we lift him on three. Ready? One…two…three…"

Together, they carefully lifted the wounded man up from the ground. With purpose, the two men made their way toward embassy. At the door to the kitchen, Dave kicked twice to alert the person on the other side of their presence.

"How is he?" Jim threw the door open to let them inside. He closed it behind them and threw the deadbolts before following the trio down the hallway to the small annex room they had designated for triage.

While Dave and Corporal Brandon placed the young man on the table, Jim was busy gathering First-Aid supplies. In less than a minute the counter was covered with gauze, tape, and other instruments. He cast a wary gaze at the items. It wasn't going to be enough, but they had to try.

Dave was busy ripping Bronson's shirt off. Grimly, he shook his head. "It's not good. Get me something to stop the bleeding," he ordered. Jim pressed the item into Dave's hand. "I'm going to need your help. Press here."

"It's not stopping," Jim whispered in a growling tone.

"Go get a doctor." Dave's attention didn't move from the man on the table. "And get Ambassador Prentiss," he ordered. "Jim?" The man turned around. "Try not to let anyone know what is happening in here; we don't need hysteria."

"Got it, Dave." Jim closed the door behind him.

"I don't want to die," Bronson breathed on a sob. He was supposed to stay strong and maintain a sense of military bearing and etiquette, but right now his stomach was on fire. He hurt so much. No one had told him that bullets were like fire.

"It's okay, son," Dave soothed and tried to calm the frightened, wounded man. He silently cursed the bastards who had done this. Tossing the blood drenched gauze, he reached for more sterilized pads. He covered the wound and pressed hard.

"It hurts."

"I know it does. It's going to be okay." _Where was the doctor?_

"I didn't mean to step out…"

"You didn't do anything wrong. You were doing your job."

"I can't breathe…"

"Stay calm," Dave directed. "Talk to me. What is your name, Marine?"

"Charles Bronson, sir," came the breathless reply.

Dave felt a smile tug at his lips while his hands tried to staunch the flow of blood. "Are you sure?"

"My dad was a fan." Pain overwhelmed him, but he tried to focus on the man helping him. "He…he w-w-wanted to…to g-g-give me a n-n-name that I…I c-c-c-"

"It's okay," Dave assured him.

"…could live up t-t-to," Bronson finished.

"You did. Where are you from?" Distract the young man from the inevitable. It was cruel, but there was nothing else they could do at this point.

"Topeka."

"Kansas. I've been there."

"I'm going to die," Bronson sobbed unabashedly. Hard, wracking coughing shook his body. A tinge of blood appeared on his lips. Dave wiped it away. He gripped the dying man's hand and tried to will some strength to him. "Listen to me, son. It's going to be okay. Just breathe."

"It hurts." More blood on Bronson's lips let Dave know that the hemorrhaging had begun; it was just a matter of time.

"I know it does."

"Marines aren't supposed to cry. You know that."

"I do. But I think you can be forgiven, this time."

"Request permission to cry."

"Go ahead, son."

The sob came out as a rattle as Bronson tried to take a breath. The death rattle. The end was close.

"Sir," the man's whisper seemed to be coming from far away. Dave leaned in to hear the final last words of a hero.

"Yes, son?"

"Tell my dad…tell…" A soft sigh escaped as the life slowly departed his body. At that moment the door swung open and an older man rushed inside. He was followed by Jim and Em.

Stone silence filled the room while the doctor checked the Marine's pulse. He waited. Then he shook his head. His expression revealed nothing as his educated eyes checked the wound.

"GSW to the upper abdomen," he detailed in monotone. "From the amount of blood loss, it's possible that the bullet nicked an artery – or even severed it. Cause of death appears to be exsanguination." He looked at the trio with sad eyes. "There would have been nothing I could have done. It was a mortal wound."

Em stared at the lifeless body. She had seen so many during her time with the CIA and FBI, but this one was different: This one was a message to her and everyone she was protecting. Their time had run out.

Holding her head high, she blindly reached for the dog tags. "I need to email his information," she stated in a tight voice, her fingers shook as she tried to work the chain. A minute later, she had the small piece of tin that held all the young man's information. Her eyes avoided Dave's, but he wasn't looking at her. His focus was somewhere else.

"I'm sure you did your best to save him," the doctor consoled Dave with a pat on the shoulder. "We need to move him to the reefer until…" he left the rest unsaid. "If it helps, he didn't suffer."

_It doesn't help,_ Dave thought bitterly. The young man before him had had his whole future in front of him, but terrorists had cut it short.

He let out a sigh full of sadness and relief. It was over for the young man on the table, but hell had just begun for the rest of them.


	37. Chapter 37

**One Hello**

Curtains drawn, lights out, Em finished typing the sentence, hit enter, then leaned back in her chair. Sitting in the darkness, she just needed five seconds to decompress and not think. But the memory of the Marine lying on the table wouldn't leave. She could still smell the blood that had covered the table and floor. Her fingers still burned from where she had touched his still warm flesh as she tried to remove his dog-tags.

She shivered and tried to ward off the cold feeling of death that had been in the room. She knew that feeling – she had experienced that feeling first hand. It was something that haunted her six years later.

She took a deep breath and released it. What had she done wrong? What could she have changed? What…?

"Are you busy?" Dave poked his head into the dark office. His eyes adjusted to find Em.

"Come in," she invited. "What's happening out there?" she nodded toward the main room.

"It's not good," he replied grimly, closing the door firmly behind him. "Word got back about the shooting. Everyone is on edge."

"Considering what happened, I can't blame them." Em stood up and paced the floor. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "God, Dave! What the hell happened?"

"It's war, Emily."

"That's no excuse! We've gone after UNSUBs who had more reason to kill! This is… What am I going to tell his family? What condolence can I offer other than 'I'm sorry'?"

"You can't take this personally."

"The hell I can't!" she raged angrily. "He died under my watch, Dave! I was responsible for him!"

"He did what he was supposed to do," he consoled. "It was what he signed up for."

"To be murdered by a terrorist with a crappy agenda? I doubt he signed up for that!" Em snorted. God, her head hurt.

Dave considered his reply before responding.

"Do you remember when we had to sit in on the Senate hearing after being suspended for releasing Doyle?"

Em appeared flummoxed by the question. "Yes. What does that…?"

"Remember what you told that pompous windbag?" he continued.

"I do." Taking a deep breath, Em repeated those words, "…I will defend the Constitution against _all_ enemies – foreign and domestic." She wiped away a lone tear that could still be invoked by that oath.

Dave laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He took the same oath. He was defending the United States Constitution with the one thing that mattered: his life. He wouldn't have had it any other way. And I know that if the shoe was one the other foot, you would do the same."

"I have."

"I know you did." He pulled her into his arms. He wanted her to feel his strength and draw from it – just as he had drawn from hers so many times in the past. "We're going to survive," he whispered in her ear.

"Did you email everything?" he changed the topic.

"I did," she confirmed. "I even sent a copy to PG."

"I'm sure Kitten will deposit the information into the hands of well connected individuals should anything happen to us," he quipped.

"I don't doubt it." Em pulled away. "Okay. How do we present this?"

"Like presenting a profile," he replied succinctly. "We tell the truth and lay it out there."

Em bit her bottom lip. Was it that simple?

Years ago she had chastised Dave for not telling someone about the threat that an UNSUB had posed. She had wondered if lying was ever acceptable, and if people deserved to know the truth no matter the consequences.

Now she was going to stand in front of a crowd of people demanding to know the truth about their fate. What could she tell them? How did one go about sugar-coating: We are going to die brutally at the hands of terrorists because we can't get help here fast enough? How did one go about telling a parent that they could lose their child?

"All hell might break loose," she pointed out.

"Em, hon," Dave took her hand and held it tight, "it already has. We need to go deliver our assessment."

She nodded in agreement. "You're right." She squared her shoulders. "Okay. Let's do this."  
************

"Are you going to tell us what is happening?" a woman bluntly asked from her position near the far wall of the embassy ballroom. All of the adults had gathered to hear the update.

"Yes," Em's answer was simple and distinct.

"We heard gunfire. Was someone shot?" a man asked.

"Yes. A Marine took fire and was killed."

Gasps and cries of "Oh my God" came from the group. The murmur became louder as questions were thrown out.

"Just a minute. Please quiet down," Dave spoke up. He raised his hand to quiet the crowd. His request only made them speak louder to get their questions and concerns heard. "Just a minute!" he repeated, but this time his voice was loud enough to rise over the commotion. The sound level immediately decreased.

"I understand your concerns, but I need your attention if we are going to make it out of here alive," he continued.

"What do you mean 'make it out of here alive'?" a man demanded.

"Exactly that," Dave replied matter of factly. "You want the truth; I'm giving it to you. As you may have noticed, there is a bounty on anyone who leaves the embassy grounds. Now it appears that it is extending to anyone who leaves the embassy."

"Is help on the way?" a woman's trembling voice asked.

"It is," Em confirmed. "It's about a day away."

"A day?! We just lost a Marine! How can they be a day away?!" an unidentified person challenged. "Who's in charge?"

"Sir, I understand," Em placated. "We need to remain calm. We have to think of the children. Right now, their safety, and yours, is our main concern. But losing control and revealing your temper is not going to help matters."

The crowd murmured approval and disapproval at the same time.

"The stronger we are, the less chance something will go wrong. We have one chance to get out of this alive," she continued. "We do it as a team. No exceptions."

"What makes you qualified?" a man shot back.

Em smiled. "I'm former CIA and FBI. I've been a profiler and tracked killers with the same mind set as terrorists. I've been around the world. And I'm an ambassador who was assigned to protect American citizens." She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Dave.

"This is David Rossi," she introduced. "He's a retired Sergeant-Major in the Marine Corps, and he was with the FBI's BAU team for twenty years. I am sure that between the both of us, we have what it takes to protect and return all of you to your families. But you have to work with us."

Em's voice became stronger as she continued, "When we tell you to do something, there can be no questions. No dawdling. Every minute counts. And, God forbid, if the inevitable happens, _seconds_ will count. Dave?"

"The team leaders assigned will still hold their positions. It will be your job to make sure everyone gets to safety. Though there will be no outside patrols – other than what the Marines are currently doing. All watches will be here in the embassy quarters," Dave picked up where Em had let off. "If you see anything or hear anything, you are to report to me immediately."

"What about the children?"

"If something happens…if, God forbid, the terrorists make it over the wall…the children are to be taken to the panic room stat! Is that understood?" Some people nodded. Others continued to listen. "Do not grab anything that is not essential. All of your papers, passports…all of that should already be in there. Do not stop to grab anything. As Emily mentioned, _every_ second will count toward surviving."

"What if we are in there and help arrives?"

"We will be able to communicate with the military upon their arrival. The doors, however, will not open until we have verified confirmation from the DOD."

"What about food and water?"

"What about sleeping arrangements?"

"And toilets…?"

Dave held up his hand. "One at a time. There are essentials in the room. We will have to use them sparingly, but there is enough. Sleeping arrangements will be designated." He paused. "Everything else is in there, too."

Em looked at the crowd of thirty adults. They could make it…if everyone worked together. _No_, she corrected herself, _they would make it!_

"You know as much as we do. Any questions?" A hand shot up. "Yes?"

"What if help doesn't come in time?"

Em barely let the question fade before answering. "It will; I stake my life on it."

Her gaze was firm and direct, but as she uttered the oath, her hand searched for Dave's.

He responded by giving her a reassuring squeeze.


	38. Chapter 38

_Sorry for leaving you hanging, but working night shift and extra hours has wiped me out. Plus, when it comes to Elizabeth Prentiss, I can only write when she speaks to me. Call me crazy, but if I can't see and hear Kate Jackson speak the words I type, it just ain't happening._

* * *

**One Hello**

"There must be something we can do to get to Jordan," Elizabeth Prentiss stated from her chair at the desk in the Israeli Ambassador's office. "I won't take no for an answer."

"I've explained that our hands are tied, Elizabeth. All non-essential personnel have been denied access to the country," Secretary of Defense Peter Laughton replied. "My hands are tied."

"I don't want to hear your talking points bullshit, Mr. Secretary; my daughter is over there trying to clean up the mess Charles Keifer refused to address when you had a chance! Now you tell me that I can't be there with her?!"

"It's too dangerous."

"I know about dangerous," she countered authoritatively, "I was there for Tehran. Or have you forgotten? Don't placate me as though I'm a junior ambassador on their first assignment; I was doing this job when you were still sticking crayons up your nose in pre-school."

"I meant no disrespect. I don't want to build your hopes up, but we have a plan," he assured her.

"A plan is not good enough! I want my daughter out of there! I don't care if I have to go to the President!" she seethed through clenched teeth. The normally unflappable Elizabeth Prentiss was slowly losing what little control she had, and her frustration was coming to the surface.

"I understand, Elizabeth," he consoled. "You have to trust me on this."

"Tell me what it is. If it involves my daughter and her safety, I think that I should be privy to what you have planned."

Peter sighed heavily. "I can't. It's classified as 'Top Secret'. Which means…?"

"It's on a 'need to know basis'," she finished dryly. "Well, I need to know. If you don't tell me, I will get in a car and drive to Jordan. Nothing – not you, or the President, or any militant extremist is going to keep me from being with my daughter."

"You know better than anyone, Elizabeth, it doesn't help to make this personal."

"If this was your daughter over there in the middle of an uprising, would you being taking it personally? Or has politics completely castrated you and replaced your blood with ice?" she bit back in a tone that could rival a monarch. It was the same tone that had caused many a round table argument to come to a halt.

A heavy silence filled the secured phone line. Elizabeth could feel her blood rush hot with anger, while her heart pounded so from fear that she swore she could hear it in her ear. As the silence dragged on, she wanted to scream. _What was happening?_ She wanted to shout. She wanted to reach thru the phone line and throttle the man with the answers until he broke and confessed.

But she couldn't.

She had a post to hold on to, and a family to worry about. She couldn't get involved in petty revenge. But everything she cared for was slowly being wretched from her grasp. Everything that mattered could be gone.

_But they aren't!_ Her mind screamed. _There is still a chance. Have faith. Have hope that someone does the right thing._

She wanted to weep. She wanted to punch a wall. She wanted to cuss and scream and hurt someone as much as she was hurting. It wasn't fair!

How many times had she thrown chances with Emily away while busy planning and scheduling meetings with dignitaries? How many times has she told herself that she would make amends after blowing off a conference or talent show? How many times had she brushed Emily off and escorted her out of the office? And the one time Emily needed her…she had been away in Switzerland for a U.N. delegates meeting on some kind of peace treaty that had ultimately fallen through.

Her daughter had needed her then, and she had failed miserably. Now Emily needed her again, and her hands were tied by red tape, politics, and the good ol' boy system.

God, she closed her eyes in prayer, she never had a chance to say she was sorry.

"You forget I said this," Peter's voice finally came over the line. "If you breathe one word of what I am about to tell you, your career will be over. Is that understood?"

"I don't make deals," she replied in a tight voice.

"You will," he corrected. "This involves Emily. What's more important?"

The self debate was short. "Okay," she breathed. "You have my word."

"There is a rescue in the works."

"When?"

"I can't tell you that."

"How?"

"Classified. We have troops in the area. That is all I can tell you."

"Does she know?"

"A coded message was sent to her with instructions to get to the safe house and stay until help arrives."

"What about the others at the embassy?"

"If they follow the internal memo that was sent out last year, there shouldn't be a problem with retrieving them from the safe house too."

"What is the guarantee?"

"It depends. How soon the troops land and how far the insurgents have gotten into the compound. We are factoring in everything we can to make sure that no matter which scenario plays out, we can rescue a majority of our people."

"What's worst case scenario?"

"The troops don't get there in time, and the insurgents find a way into the safe house. Or worse, they hit before anyone has a chance to reach safety."

Elizabeth's mind swirled with the worst case scenario.

"Either way," Peter continued, "we are prepared."

"I understand." But she didn't. The mother in her didn't want to understand. She didn't want to have to choose. There was only one way she wanted this to end: Emily and Claire safe in her arms.

"There can be no communication – other than through the Defense and State Department. You have to promise me that you will not attempt to contact her."

"There is an FBI agent there with her helping to coordinate," Elizabeth supplied.

"David Rossi," he confirmed. "We are aware of his trip over there on behalf of the CIA. I am also aware that he has been in contact with the FBI and CIA and relaying important information relevant to what is happening."

"Will you keep me up to date?" Elizabeth asked.

"I can't do that; you know that."

"Something. Anything. I need to know what's happening." Her face gave nothing away, but her knuckles were white from the grip she held on the receiver as though it was her only life line. Meanwhile, her heart was ripping in two.

"I will do my best, but I can't promise you anything."

She spoke softly, "I know."

"I will contact you as soon as I can," Peter promised, but it was hollow. There was nothing promising in his words. They both knew that fate controlled what happened next, and all they could do was pray.

But history was against them.

"Thank you." Elizabeth hung up the phone. She tried to think of something – a word of comfort of two – that she could fall back on to help alleviate the pain in her heart and the numbness in her brain. But nothing came to her. No prayer or poem. No quote from valiant leaders of the past who overcame the worst and succeeded.

It was up to God…and the people in charge of the covert team being assembled. Oh god, she had to believe that someone was doing the right thing. Could they be so heartless as to let sixty Americans die at the hands of terrorists?

Reaching inside her blouse, she pulled out the small silver locket and snapped it open to look at the picture of Emily and Claire. It had been taken on Claire's third birthday and accompanied with a note that was simple and sweet: a crooked heart that had the words _"I love you"_ written by a child's hand, inside.

Dropping the locket, her trembling fingers found the cross that hung around her neck from a thin silver chain. It had been a gift from her grandmother, and she had intended on passing it to Claire. From grandmother to granddaughter – as it should be.

How long had it been since she had been to confession? Too long. She couldn't remember the last time she had entered that small room and drew the curtain. She doubted that the Holy Father was going to intervene or not based on her vetting her soul.

But she could pray. What could it hurt? Someone – a guardian angel somewhere – had to hear her plea.

Holding the cross in her hands, Elizabeth closed her eyes.

And then she prayed as though the lives of her girls depended on it.

Because it did.


	39. Chapter 39

**One Hello**

It was Christmas Eve morning in Jordan, but the tension in the American embassy was so thick it could be cut with a knife. As the sounds of sporadic gun-fire and chanting filled the air, the occupants inside the brick building waited in darkness. It was no longer safe to stand up, and those who could, sat on the floor, while others took to chairs and sofas in rooms that had the tapestries drawn over the bullet proof windows.

In the distance a bomb detonated and was followed by sirens and more gun-fire. A few of the women hugged their children close and wept.

"Can Santa find us, Mommy," a young boy asked innocently. His soft voice cut through the quiet and sounded louder than normal.

"I don't know," his mother replied with all honesty.

"I wrote him a letter and told him to come here on his sleigh and take us home."

"That's nice," her voice choked with emotion.

"Do you think he will?"

"I-I don't know, baby," she sniffled.

"It's okay, Mommy, you don't have to cry," he assured her. "Santa will save us; I _know_ he will."

Unable to speak, the young woman pulled her son to her and hugged him. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Hidden in the shadows, Em took in the moment as she made her rounds. She had heard similar conversations a few times earlier, and her heart wept. What could she do or say to assure them that all hope wasn't lost? How could she convince them that help was on the way when she wasn't sure herself?

She sighed. At least the children still had faith. Maybe that would help them escape the hell they were all in.

Yes, the word had arrived, but if the explosions in the city were any indication to the terror waiting to gain access, time was of the essence. Her hand automatically went to the gun on her hip. Patting it, she breathed a sigh of relief. All of the years at the FBI she had worn one without second thought, but as an ambassador, she had felt the need. Now, once again, it was part of her. It was going to be her child's defender.

Peeking into the kitchen, she watched as Julia and a couple of the other women methodically rolled and cut dough for biscuits. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to tide them over until they were in Israel.

Her stomach rumbled at the smell of sourdough. As tempting as it was to grab one, she could wait her turn.

Closing the door, she quietly made her way back to her office. Darkened by night and heavy drapes, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust and find the little girl curled under the blanket fast asleep on the extra long sofa.

A yawn overwhelmed her. Maybe she could stretch out and close her eyes for a moment before everyone woke up. Yeah, a quick nap couldn't hurt.

Picking up Claire, Em settled down on the cushions and tried to get comfortable. She tucked the little girl in the crook of her arm.

"Mommy," Claire mumbled in her sleep, "is it time for Santa?"

"One more day, darling," Em whispered back.

"I can't wait one more day," she protested tiredly.

"I know. But it's just one more day."

Claire yawned and snuggled closer. "I wish it was tomorrow now."

Em rubbed Claire's little back. "I know. Me too."  
*******

"You should be home, Mama," Derek announced as he walked into Pen's lair.

"This is home," she returned. Her eyes never left the screen as she mentally absorbed every bit of information that popped up on her multiple screens. When alerted to something new, she grabbed her pen to jot it down, then she was back to researching any possible way to liberate her best friend from hell.

"No, this is your lair," he corrected. "Your home is that tiny apartment you wouldn't give up for anything."

"Right now, until I can get my princesses home safe and sound, I'm staying here." Her fingers flew over the keyboard with lightning speed. "This is 'Home Sweet Home'."

Derek came over to her desk and sat down on the edge. "You need to go home and take care of your cat."

"I don't have a cat."

He considered her retort. "Okay, you need to go home and take care of Emily's cat. I think he wants you."

She sighed. "What I _want_ is to get things back to the way they were. And no matter how much I do what I can to find information to send to Hotch or JJ, or I monitor the news for updates, or…" Her vision was blurred by tears. "I can't get my family back together."

"I know." He wanted to reach out and hold her.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in Chicago?"

"I changed my plans."

"Your mother was expecting you. What about Sara's new baby?"

"I need to stay here."

"But…"

Derek crooked his index finger under her chin. "Mama, you need me here. Sara understands. Though she might kick my ass when I finally get up there, I figure I can do more here."

Pen threw her hands helplessly into the air. "There is nothing to do! That's the problem! No matter what happens here, it isn't changing what is happening _there!_ I want…I want…" She sniffled back a sob.

"What do you want, Pen?" His brown eyes searched hers.

"I lost Emily once. I know that pain - that heart-ripping, gut twisting, hole in soul that is never going to heal - pain. I lost so much sleep after we buried her. Do you know that I cried _every_ night? I kept thinking that if I could have…pinged her phone sooner would we have located her before Doyle did and saved her? I kept asking myself: What more could I have done? And for the first time since my parents died, I prayed. I kept hoping it was all a bad dream."

"I know," he consoled sympathetically. "I know."

"And worst of all, I hated you for a long time," she admitted.

His eyebrows drew together. "Me? Why?"

Her hand swiped at her nose. "Because you…you were there holding her hand and talking to her before she…"

"I didn't know." He grabbed her hands. "But this time is different, I promise. Emily is alright."

"No, she isn't. Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it! Fate can't be messed with," she stated in a rush, "and since she cheated it once…"

"Wait a minute!" He stood up. "Where is this defeatist attitude coming from?" He reached down, grabbed a troll doll, thrusting it into her hands. "Here, hold this."

She glanced down at the doll dressed in purple and pink rhinestones. "Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"Isn't that why you have them around? Negative energy only creates more negative energy. That's what a little blonde firecracker once told me. So, I'm going to help change your attitude. Take this as a helpful suggestion: Go home."

Heart dropping into her stomach, Pen looked around helplessly at the computer screens full of information. "I-I can't. What if something happens and I'm needed here?"

Derek's eyes softened with love and concern for his best friend. "What can you do?"

"Something. There has to be something," she argued passionately. "I couldn't live with myself if…"

Grabbing her by the upper arms, he stilled her nervous energy. "Baby Girl, there is nothing you can do. And right now, if the dark circles under your eyes are any indication, you are past exhausted. Now, you can argue until you're blue in the face, but I'm taking you home to get something to eat."

"But…"

Derek put his hand over her mouth. "Hush!" He flashed his trademark comforting grin. "Now turn off your babies, and get your coat and bag. We are leaving before the maintenance workers finish cleaning the building."

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Pen typed her password to put the computers to sleep, then she slid her coat on, buttoned it, then reached for her oversized purse.

"Happy?" she challenged with a tilt of her head.

"Almost. Let's go." Before she could utter another word, he cupped the small of her back and escorted her out of the room to the elevators.

"What's on the menu?" she wondered aloud as they waited for the lift to arrive.

"Whatever you want."

The bell dinged loudly, then the doors slid open. He followed behind and pushed the garage button.

"Can I have you?" she asked saucily.

"It depends, do you want dessert before or after dinner?" he replied as the doors closed with a soft thump.


	40. Chapter 40

_I have been working a lot of extra hours because of illness and bad weather. So I hope you don't mind that I took my free day to write two chapters. I know that you all are eager (at least I hope so!) to find out what happens. Well, the good news is that everything is coming to a head. Unfortunately, the bad news is that I don't have another day off until next Wednesday._

* * *

**One Hello**

The atmosphere in the study was strained as the two occupants sat across from one another. Each wanted to speak, but neither knew where to begin.

"How was your talk?" Hotch broke the silence.

Robot-like, Elizabeth stirred her tea, set the spoon down, then sipped the scalding liquid. "Same old politics. You would think that I would be used to it by now."

"I'm sure that it's different when family is involved," he supplied.

Elizabeth set the delicate china cup down in the saucer. Although not involved in her daughter's life as much as she wanted, she was still up to date on what was happening in the BAU. She had heard about Haley Hotchner.

"It is. And I know that you understand better than anyone," she replied softly.

"That is why I know that nothing is going to happen to Emily and Dave."

"Honestly," she leaned forward, "I'm not particularly fond of David Rossi. I think that his past performance should have negated his being sent over to Jordan."

"With all due respect, Ambassador, I disagree. He was probably one of the best people to go over there. His time with the FBI as a negotiator, and his research for his latest book has given him experience in the field of terrorism."

"He hurt my daughter," she returned sharply.

Hotch started to reply, but saw the Prentiss head tilt and the way her jaw tightened. He was going to have to make his case carefully.

"He did," he agreed. "And I've seen him suffer for it. The last four years have not been easy for him. He retired again – as you may know – and he wrote a book. But he regrets losing Emily. And with Claire… I'm sure that if Emily decides to give him another chance, he won't be so careless this time."

"My daughter will never give him a second chance," Elizabeth stated firmly.

"Even for Claire?"

"She may let him have visitation, but…" She shook her head. "No."

"They still love one another."

The Ambassador's gaze was cold enough to freeze Hotch on the spot. "What makes you so sure about that?"

"He went over there to help even after learning who he was going to protect. And Emily didn't shoot him. That suggests to me that they still had something worth working for." Hotch kept to himself the late night conversations he had had with Dave and Em. It would serve no one to divulge the private information the pair had entrusted him with.

"You may have a point," she confirmed, "but I know my daughter. He hurt her and there is nothing he could do to make it up to her."

"I have to disagree. Dave is a noble guy and he will go to the ends of the earth for his friends. And I know that if anything happens, he will lay his life down for the people he loves. And he loves Emily and Claire."

Elizabeth weighed the proclamation. Was it possible for a leopard to change its spots? Could Dave and Emily still love one another? Before she could respond, Jacob Rabin ran into the room.

"Agent Hotchner. Ambassador Prentiss," he greeted breathlessly.

"Jacob, what's wrong?" Hotch stood up from the table.

"We have to leave. I've managed to charter a plane to get us to Israel," he said.

"Israel?" Elizabeth nearly dropped her cup. "When do we leave?"

"Now."

"We have clearance?" Hotch asked.

"For the moment. That is why we must leave immediately. Tell me that you are ready to depart," Jacob insisted.

"We are."

"I have to call Emily," Elizabeth stated and turned to leave.

Jacob stopped her. "No. We can't call; it's too dangerous. You can make the call when we get to Tel-Aviv."

Hotch felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Things were going to work out. He could feel it.

"I'll get our bags. Elizabeth, may I get yours?"

"No, thank you. I will meet you outside." She left the two men to talk.

"I need to tell you that there is something happening," Jacob began earnestly.

"What exactly?" Hotch inquired.

"It's not official, but a message from the State Department was sent to the American embassy in Jordan with details on an immediate evacuation of all personnel."

"That means Emily and Dave most likely read it. When does intelligence expect this to occur?"

"1700 hours. Maybe sooner if the weather remains clear. There might be a problem with the rioting, so they are taking that into consideration."

"Emily said it was getting worse outside the compound," he offered. Though he wasn't sure if that was going to change what was already in the works.

"Drones have been taking pictures of the events. That is why they are sending in a SEAL team," Jacob finished.

"Are you going to tell the Ambassador?"

"Once we are on the plane, I will brief her on what is happening. To do so before we leave could jeopardize everything. We cannot risk her contacting Emily. It is quite possible that the insurgents have tapped the phone lines and are listening to everything. Even the email system is under scrutiny."

"I'm positive that Ambassador Prentiss will follow protocol," Hotch defended.

"Perhaps," Jacob conceded. "Could you say that you would follow protocol if you were in her shoes?"

The memory of when he tried to contact Haley during the Gitmo incident flashed in Hotch's memory. He had been wrong to make the call, but not a day went by that he regretted it. He had the moment and he took advantage of it. So he could see the dilemma.

"I have been in her shoes," Hotch admitted.

"Then we will wait until we're on the plane." Jacob checked his watch. "I will meet you out by the car."

Hurrying to his room, Hotch threw his possessions in his go bag and was zipping it up when Reid appeared.

"Are you ready?"

Hotch grabbed the handles and lifted the bag to his shoulder. "Let's go." He firmly closed the door behind them.


	41. Chapter 41

_If you think you know what's going to happen, all I can say is: You are wrong._

* * *

**One Hello**

A muffled sound of a bomb detonating from the street wasn't enough for concern, but it jarred Emily from her dead sleep. Confused and disoriented, she sat up on the couch. Her first thought was of her daughter, but when she looked down, the little girl wasn't there. Instantly, fear gripped her.

"Claire?" she called out to the empty room. Streaks of sunlight peeked thru the curtains and helped balance the darkness. "Claire?" she repeated.

No reply greeted her.

Frantic, Em jumped up from the couch and raced across the room to the adjacent bathroom. Throwing open the door, she turned on the light. "Claire?" Her voice was full of terror. The room was empty. At that moment, she swore her heart had stopped and breathing hurt. Where was her baby?

"Oh God!" she whispered. Images of worst case scenarios filled her head as she hurriedly pulled her shoes on. With trembling fingers, she tied the laces then ran for the door. She started to turn the handle when it suddenly opened. Poised to strike, it took a moment to realize the person entering was Dave.

"Emily, what's wrong?" he asked as he looked at her pale face and terror filled eyes.

"Where's Claire?" her voice quavered on a sob.

"In the kitchen with Julia. What…?" He pulled her back and closed the door. There was enough stress in the main room without Emily setting off alarms by running out. Yes, she was stressed – who wouldn't be under such dire circumstances – but he wasn't going to let anyone else see their ambassador this way.

"I want her," Em gasped as the air returned to her lungs. She wasn't going to cry. Not now. But God help her…

"She's okay. She's safe. Come here," he offered. "Sit down. Tell me what happened." He led her to the couch. He set the plate and cup on the coffee table, then turned to face her.

Seated, Em wrapped her arms around her waist. "I heard the explosion and woke up. I looked for Claire…I even called for her, but I couldn't find her."

"That was my fault," he admitted honestly. "I came in from rounds and you were sleeping soundly. Claire was playing on your computer and being quiet. I didn't want to wake you, so I took her to the kitchen to get something to eat."

Em's eyes flashed with anger and hurt. "Don't ever do that again! You scared the hell out of me!"

He dropped his shoulders. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized. "I thought you needed the sleep."

"I woke up and she wasn't here. All I could think was that she was…." She wiped a stray tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. "I just remembered all of those cases we worked on with abducted children."

"I know." He pulled her into his arms and held her close. Lovingly, his hands stroked her back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I want her here. Now," Em demanded. Her tone left no room for argument.

"I'll get her," he offered. "While I do that, have something to eat." He handed her the plate. He stood up. "I'll be back in a minute." He dropped a kiss on her forehead before leaving the office.

Reluctantly, Em nibbled on her biscuits and sipped the lukewarm tea. It wasn't much, but it helped replenish some of her strength and clear her head. God, she was tired of the explosions and rioting and sirens. She wanted to go home.

Lifting the biscuit for another bite, she stopped when a loud 'ping' resounded in the quiet room. Pushing herself up, she walked over to the desk to her computer. 'Incoming message' flashed on the screen. Holding her breath, she clicked on the link.

Her eyes darted over the words as she quickly jotted down notes on the nearby pad. "Yes," she breathed with a sigh of relief. Help was coming. It was official. Now all they had to do was standby and try not to panic until then.

How they had prayed for this moment. Now she had an ETA to work with.

The door opened and Claire ran inside. "Mommy!" she cried out and launched herself into Em's arms.

Em pulled her daughter to her and hugged her tightly. "Where were you?" she asked hoarsely.

"I was with Miss Julia. I was baking."

Em set Claire on her lap. "You were?"

"Uh huh," she nodded. "Mr. Dave said you wanted me."

"He's correct."

"Were you crying?" Claire looked closely at her mother's red-rimmed eyes.

Em shook her head. "No, darling, I'm just tired." Em gave another hug. "I want you to stay here with me until we leave. Okay?"

"But I want to play," she protested.

"You can play here. I'm sure that Daddy will go get your toys."

Claire cast a look at the door where the other children were. She desperately wanted to play with them. But even at three, her loyalty was to her mother.

"Okay. Can I play on your computer?" she asked.

Em tapped Claire's pert nose. "What's the magic word?"

A sunshine smile lit up Claire's face. "Please?"

"Yes you may." Em gave her another hug. "Stay here while I talk to Daddy, okay?" She settled her daughter in the chair. Already engrossed in a game, Claire barely acknowledged the request.

"What's wrong?" Dave asked in Italian, his voice just above a whisper.

"Good news," Em replied back in kind. "Help is on the way. I was sent an ETA." She showed him the pad full of notes. "Do you think we can hold on for a few more hours?"

"I think so. Though…" he trailed off before finishing his reply.

"Though what?"

"It's getting dangerous out there. I'm not fluent in Arabic, but I'm sure a few of those signs the rioters were carrying said 'Death To Americans'. And if I'm correct, the Stars and Stripes they were burning, may have been a better indicator."

"Do you think they will try to make it over the wall?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. They can try. We've been practicing the escape route to the panic room, so we should be okay."

They could make it. But there was fear that something could go wrong. No matter how she tried to suppress it, it was determined to grip her.

"What if they don't make it? What if something happens?"

Dave grabbed her hands. "Emily, we _are_ going to make it. Help is going to get here, and we are going to walk out of here alive. And when we get back to Georgetown, we are going to start over. A fresh start." He kissed her hard and fast. "For all of us," he promised.

Em nodded. "Okay." Some of the fear began to fade. Maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel.

"Stay here," he ordered. "Finish your breakfast. And before you know it, we'll be out of here. I'll go tell the others."

"Thanks."

Another kiss, then Dave left the room. Hugging herself, Em waited until the door closed. Turning on her heel, she headed back to the couch. It was going to be a few hours, and she needed to make sure she was up for the rescue.

But first, she wanted to shake the dread that was filling her body.


	42. Chapter 42

_As promised, here is another chapter. If it makes you feel any better, I was pretty surprised at the twist this story took. I wondered if my imagination had made the right choice, but as Zoe said, "You can only choose one", I figured the characters knew better than I the direction the plot is taking. I am only fingers on a keyboard telling it. But that leaves a good question to ask of my readers: You can only save one; who would it be?_

_P.s. There IS a clue in this chapter, but it's not one that is going to tell you who is going to live._

* * *

**One Hello**

"Tell me that they are going to survive," Ray demanded as he watched the scene down below play out. It was tearing him in two that he couldn't intervene. There must be something that he could do to change the outcome from what had been set. He might be an angel in training, but he could still feel. And right now, he was feeling completely helpless.

"I think you already know the answer to that question," Zoe returned. She knew what had to be done. It was out of her hands. Just as her fate had been out of hers, she understood that everyone had a destiny to fulfill. Hers had been to prevent numerous deaths at the hand of a serial killer. She had embraced that long ago, and she hoped that someday, her mother could, too.

"I won't let them die!" He turned away from his friends and focused on the beautiful angel standing in front of him. He wished he had her patience and sweet ability to accept.

"That's not for you to say. Besides, your role is to take care of Claire," she gently reminded him. "My role is to take care of Dave, and…"

"I know. I know," he groused. "Emma is to take care of Emily. It still isn't fair. I should be protecting my friend." And deep down inside, he knew it to be true. He _should_ be protecting Dave, not here where he was helpless. Where had he gone wrong?

"Life isn't fair," she reminded him.

"There is so much still left undone! There are children down there!"

"Even though you think you have unfinished business…it really isn't a person's choice."

"But they finally found each other," Ray protested. "After all of this time – Dave finally got his act together, and Em set aside her pride. Now look at them! There has to be a way around this!"

"I'm sorry. There isn't."

"I don't believe it. There has to be someone with some pull around here." He looked around the area and found no one to come to his aid.

"It doesn't work that way, here. This plan was made long before you and I even knew Dave and Emily. Their fate was set long before the stars lit the sky," she recited.

"No. I can't accept that. Fate can be disrupted. It's been done many times," he argued. "What if I make a deal?"

Zoe considered his request. "What kind of deal are you talking about?"

"My wings."

"Your wings?"

"Yes. I will give up my wings for Dave."

"And what would you give up for Emily?" she volleyed back.

Ray thought for a moment. He had been so intent on rescuing Dave, he hadn't thought about the possibility of Emily dying instead.

"My being here," he stated finally.

"I see." She pushed a lock of back. "You are giving up a chance at achieving immortality and securing a place as a guardian angel so that you can keep Emily from dying?" She tilted her head, intrigued by Ray's offer. He was learning the value of altruism; maybe he was going to make it as an angel.

Ray only needed a second to ponder an answer. "Yes."

"What if I said that Dave and Emily weren't going to die? Then what do you have to offer?" she threw back at him. She watched his reaction.

Ray blanched. "Whatever it takes to keep them safe."

She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way."

"Then how does it work?" he demanded. "If it can work for one, why not the other?"

"Because we already saved Dave. He is going to live. There is nothing you can sacrifice for him."

"I don't believe you. If that were true," he tossed back, "then you wouldn't be here with me. Why them?" he demanded and pointed to the group of people. Some were praying, others were writing short notes to their loved ones, others held their families tight. But all of them did so in fearful anticipation of what was coming next.

"It's their time." Zoe's response was even and so…final.

"I don't… There has to be a way."

"This isn't easy for any of us," Zoe comforted. "But there is a reason. And what is about to happen is part of the bigger plan."

"Bigger plan for whom? The friends who are going to grieve their loss? The people who are going to murder them in cold blood? Or is it for the people who are going to lose their lives to some kind of idealistic thought process?" he fumed.

"Who would you choose?" she asked simply.

"What do you mean?" He seemed confused by her question.

"Set aside your bias and friendships. Go into this with a clear conscience. You can save one person inside the embassy, who do you choose?"

Ray paused. What could he say? His knee-jerk reaction was to say Dave. But then he thought about Claire being left without a mother. He started to say Emily, but stopped. What if he said Claire? Could she live without having both her parents to raise her? It was possible that the team would take her in. She would be alright.

But his conscience tugged at him. He remembered what it was like when his father had run out, and then his mother had died. He remembered the long, cold nights of sleeping in alleys because he was too proud to tell people that he was homeless. He remembered the anger and hurt he felt at being abandoned. Yes, his mother's sister had taken him in, and life was good, but every single day he missed the people he had loved more than life itself.

It wasn't his parents fault – they did the best they could by him - and his aunt had loved him – in her own way, of course. But he still resented them. And he had taken that anger and sadness and chosen the path that led him to a world completely different from Dave's and Jimmy's. And that road had led him to where he was now – deciding on a little girl's future.

But was it fair to the others he didn't have a vested interest in? Even if he didn't know them, could he decide to seal their fate? What about their loved ones waiting? Or that their children would be parentless? Could he tear a parent from their child because of selfishness?

Patiently, Zoe waited as Ray debated with himself. She understood that these kinds of decisions could not be rushed. Finally, Ray let out a defeated sigh in one long breath.

"I can't," he admitted with heavy reluctance. "I want them all to live."

"I understand," she soothed.

"I guess that's why I'm not God," he quipped with slight humour.

"It's not easy for Him, either. Everyone down there is His child and it hurts when He has to choose."

"I only had to choose one out of sixty; I couldn't imagine 6 billion people." Ray glanced down at the scene unfolding outside the embassy. Though it was filtered, he could hear the chanting and see the rioting. It was getting worse.

"No one is going to hold it against you."

"Now what happens?" It hurt him deeply that he had once again failed his friends. He didn't deserve to be an angel – guardian or not.

"It goes as planned. Everything that was laid out long ago continues."

"And I am out of a job."

Zoe shook her head. "Not really. There is one more thing you have to do."

"What is that?" He braced himself for the worst.

"When everything begins to happen, you need to remind Claire to get her doll."


	43. Chapter 43

_I know that you guys are going to hate me at the end of the chapter. But I promise to have the second half up once I edit it._

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**One Hello**

The embassy rocked from the explosions outside the main gate, while sporadic gunfire filled the air. Inside the embassy walls, everyone remained frozen as the seconds ticked by slowly. Wordlessly, they communicated by looks and gestures. But no one had to speak out loud to know that the end was near.

Another explosion sounded – this time, closer. A child screamed in fear, then dissolved in tears in her mother's arms.

Meanwhile, inside the study, Em was furiously typing emails and making notes to help document each minute they were trapped inside. If they should escape the hell determined to get at them, there would be Congressional Hearings to find out who dropped the ball. Even if she wasn't around, she wanted to cover all of her bases. She could only hope that when the embassy was stormed, the insurgents wouldn't find the hidden room with the recording devices. That alone would help back up her story.

A loud blast rocked the building. For a moment the lights went out. Em held her breath as screams and cries filtered in thru the closed door. Inwardly, she counted the seconds until the generator kicked on.

"Mommy?" Claire's plaintive voice called out.

"Shhh, Claire," Em cautioned. _Come on, generator. Kick on. Please,_ she silently pleaded. They were going to need it to get to the panic room.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Claire whimpered.

"It's okay, Claire," Dave soothed and took the little girl into his arms. Hugging her tightly, he buried his face in her black curls. He loved her so much, his heart hurt. Sure, he had missed out on the monumental moments in his daughter's life, but if they got through this, he was never going to miss any event concerning her.

"I want Mommy." Her bottom lip trembled. "I want Mommy."

At that moment, the generator kicked on. The lights flashed bright enough to make Em blink.

"See, Claire, I'm alright," she reassured her daughter. Closing her laptop, she unplugged it and shoved it into her go bag. There wasn't any time left, they had to get to safety.

"Is it time?" Dave asked. At Em's nod, he stood up, his arms still held Claire close. "Want me to take that?" he nodded toward the canvas bag.

"I have it. Take Claire." Grabbing everything she would need, Em walked across the large room to where the pair stood.

"Mommy, I want you to hold me."

"I can't, right now. But when all of this is over, I will hold you. I promise."

"Mommy, I'm scared." Tears shimmered in her brown eyes so much like her mother's.

"There is no reason to be scared," she comforted with a smile. "We're going to be okay. You just need to do everything your father and I tell you. Can you do that? For me?" Claire nodded tentatively. "Thank you." Em pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Just hold on to me," Dave said.

"Can I ride piggy-back?" She looked up at the man holding her. She had been told he was her daddy, but in her mind – which was a combination of both parents – she was still figuring out his place in her life. He seemed nice and he liked her. But she wasn't completely sure. A piggy-back ride would make or break the deal where she was concerned.

"Sure." Setting her on the floor, he squatted down to give her access to climb on his back. "Wrap your hands tight," he ordered. "Ready?"

"Yep."

Dave looked at the woman he loved and would lay his life down for. He took her hand in hers and squeezed. "Do you have everything?" he asked.

She nodded. "I do. Let's go." She opened the door and led the way. "Everyone," she called out, "I need your attention. I am ordering that we get to the safe room as soon as possible. I am going to ask that the women and the children go first. Agent Rossi will lead you down. Everything you need should already be down in the safes, so take only what you have on you."

"When will the military be arriving?" a woman asked.

"The email I received said-" Em's words were cut off by a loud commotion from outside. Automatic gunfire filled the air. The explosions that had been distant, earlier, were now much closer. A few of the women screamed in terror as the front door burst open and a couple of Marines hurried inside.

"Ambassador," the camouflaged Marine addressed Em. "We need to move everyone now."

"What's happening?"

"We're holding the insurgents off, but unless we get reinforcements soon, they are going to make their way over the wall. We're doing the best we can to stop them, but…"

"Everyone, we need to go," Em commanded in an authoritative tone that could have rivaled her mother's. "Single file, and don't run." She led the way thru the kitchen to the back hallway. At the end of the corridor, she punched her code into the panel to open t he hidden door.

"Find a place to sit. When you do, please try to remain as quiet as possible." Mentally, she counted each head that passed.

"I wanna get down," Claire announced to Dave who was taking up the end of the long line.

"We're almost there. Can you wait?"

"I wanna walk."

Slowly, Dave lowered her to the ground. "Hold my hand." He took her small hand in his, and tried to comfort her, but in reality, it was he who was looking for comfort. The line was moving slowly. Too slowly for his liking. What was holding them up?

"I forgot my purse," a woman wailed to Em. "I need to go back."

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that. We have to get you in the room. We can get it after we are rescued."

"What if we can't? I need my purse."

"I'm sorry. Please move forward."

"Come on, move," a man stated angrily.

"What if we die?" the woman sobbed.

"Then your purse isn't gonna do you much good, will it?" the man retorted with a snort. He pushed forward. "I don't know about you, but I want to live."

"Sir, I need you to stay in line," Em ordered.

"I'm not staying in line while she worries about the purse she should have taken with her. I want to live."

"Sir. I have this under control…"

A few people started to murmur – some agreeing with Em, others with the angry man.

"Let me through!" He shoved the hysterical woman out of the way. Em grabbed his arm.

"I need you to remain calm and get back in line!" Em stood her ground.

"Fuck her purse! I want to live! Anyone else who wants to, follow me!"

"Sir! Stop!" Em tried to halt the determined man. Unable to muscle around her, the man drew back his arm. He was going to get thru that doorway, come hell or high water!

Em braced herself for the punch she knew was coming, but it never connected. It took a moment for her to realize that Dave had grabbed the man's wrist at the last second.

"Hey!"

"You want to hit someone? Why don't you hit me, you son of a bitch?" Dave challenged.

"This doesn't involve you!"

"Anything involving the Ambassador involves me.

"Let me go, or I'll -"

"If it wasn't for the fact that she is trying to save your sorry ass from killers who want to chop your head off, I would press charges against you for assault!" Dave growled. His grip tightened around as anger overwhelmed him. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he prepared to strike.

"Dave-" Em cautioned.

"Let me go!" the man demanded but his tone was more subdued.

"She is trying to save your life! Personally, I don't care if you get yourself killed, but I'll be damned if you are going to risk the lives of others. Now I suggest you get back in line before I do something. Do I make myself clear?" The man nodded. Dave looked at Em. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "You can let him go."

Flinging the insubordinate man's arm down, Dave stood tall and held his gaze. Silently they challenged one another as everyone entered the room.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dave asked Em.

"I am. I think we are all a little on edge." Her heart was pounding, but she was trying to remain calm. The situation was about to get out of hand. She wondered how long they could hold it together if one little thing had almost set off a chain reaction. She tried to remember the exact ETA.

Dave patted her arm tenderly. "We're almost there, Em."

"I know," she sighed, then went stiff. "Where's Claire?"


	44. Chapter 44

_**It's all come down to this moment.**_

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_**A/N: In regard the the anonymous poster who said that I was unfair to Muslims, I HAVE stated that these are Al-Qaeda faction and Islamic EXTREMISTS and INSURGENTS. This is also based on MANY attacks of embassys and other cities over the last three and a half decades since Tehran. If you take it personally, or think that I am misrespresenting a particular religion, obviously you haven't read the story as thoroughly as you claim to have. If it really insults you, no one is forcing you to read. Thank you.**_

* * *

**One Hello**

"Where is Claire?" Em repeated. Her question bounced off the narrow walls of the passageway.

Dave hurried to where he had left their daughter. "She was right here, Em. I swear." His heart started beating rapidly. He could barely catch his breath. This wasn't happening, he told himself. What were the odds of all the missing children cases coming back to claim his child?

His eyes darted around the area. Where could she have gone? He had only left her for a moment.

"Did you find her?" Em asked.

"I can't find her! Where would she have gone?"

_Julia!_

Em ran into the safe room and cornered the older woman. "Is Claire with you?" she asked bluntly.

Julia looked confused. "Claire? No." She shook her head. "I thought she was with Agent Rossi."

Em grabbed her shoulders. "She's _gone_, Julia! Did you see where she went?"

"No. No."

"Claire! Claire!" Em shouted to be heard in the large area. "Claire, answer me!"

Dave appeared in the doorway. "I looked everywhere; she isn't here."

Em felt her knees go weak. No amount of training could have prepared her for this crisis. Swallowing hard, she tried to fight down the nausea rising to choke her.

"Does she have a special hiding place?" Dave asked. "Maybe somewhere she thinks is…"

"Oh my God!" Em breathlessly cut him off. "I know where she is!" Faster than she thought possible, she ran out of the room. "If we are not back in five minutes, close and lock the door," she instructed the Marine standing guard.

"Ma'am," the young man began, "I can't let you go."

"The hell you can't!" she shot back. "I'm getting my daughter!"

"You can't," he protested.

"Then you better shoot me," she challenged him and ran down the hall toward the front of the embassy.

"Son, you heard the Ambassador," Dave spoke up. "That's a direct order."

"Yes, sir."

"Em, wait up!" Dave called out as he tried to catch up. He tried not to wince as his knees protested each heavy, pounding step on the hard marble floor.

Breathless, heart pounding, eyes brimming with tears, Em blindly took the stairs two at a time until she stepped on the landing. "Claire!" she called down the empty, deserted hallway.

It seemed like the longest moment of her life before she reached the princess themed door that led to Claire's bedroom. Turning the knob, her heart stopped for a brief moment as the door opened.

"Claire?" The seconds ticked by slowly.

"I'm here, Mommy," Claire's voice piped up from somewhere near her bed. A second later her black curly head popped up.

"Oh…" Em rushed over to her. "Are you okay?" Her hands roamed to find any bumps or cuts.

"I'm okay."

Pulling her close, Em hugged her daughter as though her life depended on it. "Why did you run away?" Em's voice was raspy from unshed tears and anger.

"I can't breathe, Mommy." Claire struggled to free herself.

"Why did you run away?" Em measured each word for clarity.

"I had to get Gwendolyn," she replied. Em looked at her blankly. "My doll. I can't leave her."

_Oh, dear God!_ Em didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You scared me. You ran away without telling anyone."

Claire's lower lip trembled. "Are you mad?"

"Yes, but I'm scared, too. Is she okay?" Claire nodded hesitantly. "Let's go then." Em picked her up – doll included.

"Is she okay? Did you find her?" Dave inquired as he trotted to where his girls stood.

"She's okay. She had to get her doll."

Dave sighed. "Claire." He looked at his watch. "We need to hurry if we are going to make the door deadline." Cupping the small of her back with his hand, he led Em down the hall.

Ten feet from the staircase, a figure stepped toward them. He shouted an order in Arabic while pointing his gun at the trio.

"_I am an American Ambassador_," Em replied in the man's native tongue. Setting her daughter on the floor, she pushed the girl behind her to shield her from what might happen next. Her hands were up to show that she was defenseless.

The man shouted another order, but this time he spat on the floor at Em's feet.

"_What did he say_?" Dave asked in Italian.

"We are prisoners, and we are to come with him," Em whispered under her breath.

"_Tell him that we are not going with him._"

"I did; he doesn't care."

"Take me," Dave announced and stepped forward, his hands raised in surrender.

"Dave!"

"Take me," he repeated. "_Don't let go of Claire,_" he ordered at Em.

"You come with me," the man directed in broken English.

"I'm not going anywhere until you let them go. They are of no use to you." Dave racked his brain with information about the culture and their attitudes toward women. At least their captor spoke English; it was going to make it easier to communicate.

"All of you come! Now!" The man waved the gun for emphasis. Not getting a reaction from Dave or Em, he pointed it toward Claire. "Now!"

"Look, I understand," Dave began to negotiate. "Right now, you think you're under orders to kill us. But that isn't going to change anything. Letting us go, that could change things in your favour."

In French, Em bit out an order. Too frightened to do anything but clutch her doll, the little girl obeyed.

"You don't need her. I am someone important," Dave continued as though Em hadn't spoken. "I am friends with the President of the United States." He saw a flicker of something flash in the man's lifeless brown eyes. Maybe there was hope he could stall long enough for help to arrive. Or maybe he could get Em and Claire to safety.

"Hand the gun over. I'll tell our government you cooperated."

"Allah commands me that all infidels are to convert or die," the gunman repeated in monotone.

"Allah does not command that you kill children," Dave corrected. "You will not find paradise by taking innocent lives."

"_All_ must convert," he emphasized. His finger itched to pull the trigger. He was on a mission. He could not fail! His face betrayed nothing as he pointed and aimed his weapon toward Em.

"_Em, get behind me!_" Dave commanded. He wasn't sure what propelled him to push her aside, but his thought was to save her! He couldn't let it end this way! Desperately, he grabbed the man's wrist and tried to wrestle the gun away. The man had youth and vengeance on his side, but Dave had determination and a will to protect. If the grunts and groans were any indication, it was going to be a fight to the death. And no man wanted to lose.

The deafening sound of the weapon discharging filled the room, but Dave barely flinched as he held his ground. It was an uneven fight, but Dave gave his all. Looking into the blank, brown eyes of his opponent propelled him to put everything he had into winning.

Holding on to her sobbing daughter, Em tried to shield and comfort her, but her eyes never left the two men fighting for the one thing that could change everything. Softly she whispered sweet words to comfort Claire.

_Oh God, please save us,_ she prayed silently. _Send a sign; send something to let me know that You are up there. Please!_

Dave didn't have time to pray as the first of two blows caught him off guard. He barely had time to shake the stars from his vision when he took a punch to the abdomen. Expelling an expletive, he knew he was on the losing end. Another blow knocked the air out of his lungs. Reaching back to his days running the streets of Commack, he went dirty and clawed at his enemy's eyes. It wasn't enough.

He needed a miracle. Fast!

The enemy was quickly gaining the upper hand and moved the weapon between them. Dave could feel the muzzle of the gun pressed against him. With everything he had, he tried to point it toward the floor.

A loud boom caused the building to shake. Confused and caught off guard, the insurgent looked up to see what had happened. At that same time, two more booms followed in succession.

Dave took that opportunity to turn the gun toward his opponent and pull the trigger twice. He knew it was over as he watched the life go out of the man's eyes, then he slumped forward, dead on the marble floor.

Holding on to the gun, Dave tried to get his breath, but his ribs hurt. Damn, he was getting old, he thought before his knees buckled. Em sprung forward to catch him.

"Dave!" She cried out and cushioned his fall the best she could.

"I'm okay," he gasped. "I think he hit me harder than I thought." If he could just rest for a moment, then he would get his family to safety.

"Let me look," she ordered. Glancing down, she gasped. "Oh…Dave. Oh no!" Blinded by tears, she pulled her sweater off, rolled it up, pressing it against the red stain that was rapidly spreading. "No," she whispered.

"I'm okay," Dave assured her, but he hurt. Of all the fights he had been in, this was the one that had kicked his ass.

"We have to get you help. We have to get out of here." But where? How?

"Em…" Something caught his eye. With only a second to spare, he sat up, then pulled the trigger to fell the man who had appeared suddenly in the doorway. He barely registered the sound of the corpse hitting the floor.

"Here," he pressed the gun into Em's hand, "take this; use it. I don't think…" He needed to close his eyes, but first he had to ask, "Where's Claire?"

"I'm right here," her little voice spoke up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Principessa," he said, trying to distract her from Em's attempts to perform First Aid.

"Are you going to die?" Her brown eyes pleaded with his to tell the truth.

"Listen, Claire, I want you to take Mommy and go to Miss Julia, okay?"

"No!" She wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm not leaving you," Em replied in a staunch tone. _Why wasn't the bleeding stopping?_ Torn as to what she should do, she pressed harder. If Dave could just hold on until help arrived…

Claire's scream caused Em to grab the fallen gun and jump up. Turning around, she saw the figure in the doorway. It took a second for her brain to realize the man was dressed in camouflage.

"I am Ambassador Emily Prentiss," she stated with authority. "State your name."

"Lieutenant Hemrich with the United States Navy SEALS," came the response. "Is everyone okay?"

Dropping her weapon, Em breathed a sigh of relief. "This is Agent Dave Rossi. He's been shot."

Within seconds, LT Hemrich radioed that they needed medical transport for a man down. Then he was helping to stabilize Dave. A couple minutes later the medical team hurried into the room. Quickly Dave was fitted with an I.V. and loaded onto a stretcher.

"Where are you taking him?" Em questioned the leading officer.

"Tel Aviv," he said. "We have authorization to land there with any casualties." He looked around. "Are there more?"

She shook her head. "Just one more. But he didn't make it."

"We'll come back for him. Right now we have to transport. He appears to have lost a lot of blood." Em nodded. She had been in Dave situation; she knew how dire the next few minutes were. "We'll be leaving a team here with you to help coordinate the evacuation process – once everything is under control."

"We're ready to move him," the Medic stated. Four men lifted the stretcher and readied it to carry down the stairs.

"Emily," Dave managed to whisper loud enough for her to hear.

Em hurried over to Dave. Grabbing his hand, she tried not to show weakness. "You have to leave," she admonished.

"I can't leave until I tell you that I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Dave…"

He blinked back the darkness that beckoned him. "I love you, Tesoro." He needed to hold on…for her.

"Ambassador, we have to leave now." The Medic's tone was urgent.

Holding Dave's hand, she followed the stretcher down the stairs, out the front door, to the waiting helicopter. Stepping back, she watched as they quickly but efficiently loaded Dave in and secured him for take off.

"Step back!" the SEAL shouted before pulling the door closed. Although the wind from the blades was blowing her hair into her eyes to blind her, Em did as she was told. Seconds later, the helicopter lifted up and sped toward Tel Aviv. Inside was the man she owed her life to.

"Mommy?" Claire asked plaintively and slid her small hand into Em's. "Is Mr. Dave going to be okay?"

Only half aware of the sirens and smoke in the distance, Em tried to find a response that could reassure her that Dave was okay and was going to be fine. But she had seen the wound, it was more than serious. There wasn't even a chance that he could or would survive the flight.

Unable to speak, Em pulled the girl into her arms and wept.

Understanding better than she was given credit, Claire patted her mother's back and let her cry.


	45. Chapter 45

**One Hello**

_Tel Aviv, Israel._

Phones ringing, people talking and shouting orders…life was happening inside the hospital. But inside the small room adjacent to the OR, sat a slim figure – alone and waiting for any kind of news on the patient behind the double doors fighting for his life.

And that made her restless.

Waiting had never been one of Emily Prentiss's best attributes. By nature she was a hard-charger and go-getter. She needed to be in the middle of the fray doing what she could to help. Waiting was just wasting time that could be better spent doing something constructive.

But waiting was the one thing she needed to do now that Dave's life hung in the balance. And there was nothing she could do to help him. Except pray.

Leaning her head against the wall in the Waiting Room of the hospital, she wondered how they had gotten to this point in their lives. What weird twist of fate had stuck them in a situation that they couldn't get out of? No amount of FBI training was going to see them out of this mess.

Her arms tightened around the sleeping child lying in her lap, and not for the hundredth time did she wonder what time it was. But would it matter? No, she told herself, it wouldn't. In fact, knowing would only increase her anxiety. And right now she was ready to climb the walls.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye for anyone with news. But the doors to the OR remained closed. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. _What was taking them so long?_

She closed her eyes. She probably knew better than most since she had been at death's door not too long ago with a wound that should have killed her. Surgery could not be rushed. Still…

Adjusting Claire, she tried to relieve the tingling sensation in her hand. They both needed a bed and something to eat. But she couldn't leave Dave. It was the least she owed him now that she finally realized how much she really loved him.

She loved him!

She could say it to herself and not feel that weird sensation from a couple weeks ago. What once had made her uneasy, now filled her with a sweet feeling that made her want to weep with joy. There had been so much anger and hate on her part, and for the longest time she told herself that there was no way she could ever trust him again. Even when confronted by JJ, she had denied her feelings. There was no way she would ever forgive him for what he did that night. Still…

Deep down inside the spark between them had stayed lit. She wasn't sure when the spark grew into a flame, but she could no longer deny her feelings. They had shared a child who had been created from love. And they would always have a history. Relationships had been rebuilt on less.

She loved him, and if there was forgiveness from above, she wanted to start anew. Just their family of three…

The click-clack of hurried footsteps on the tiled floor caused her ears to perk up. Turning toward the sound, she blinked twice. Three familiar figures rapidly approached her.

"Mother?!" she breathed in a surprised whisper and tried to straighten herself as the dark haired woman with just a touched of grey entered the room. Hotch and Reid followed closely behind. Em felt her chest tighten with a sudden rush of emotion. Her mother and friends had found her. Everything seemed good – for the moment.

"Emily!" Elizabeth Prentiss pulled her daughter into her arms and hugged her as though she had been given a second chance to make it right. And perhaps she had, though it didn't escape her knowledge that Emily had missed a second brush with death in four years. Elizabeth felt her heart swell with love and sent a prayer of Thanksgiving upward.

"I'm okay, Mother," Em whispered thru her tears. She tried to say more, but her throat constricted painfully. She had never cried in front of the Ambassador, and she wasn't about to start now. But God help her, just being held in safe arms was enough to make her break her promise.

"Thank God. Thank God," Elizabeth murmured.

"Ouch!" a little voice piped up between the two women. Elizabeth pulled back to gaze at her only grandchild. "You're squishing me!"

"Hello, Claire," she greeted with a weepy smile.

"Grand-mere?" Claire blinked quickly. "Grand-mere!" She shouted and threw herself at the Ambassador. "You're here!"

"I'm here, darling," Elizabeth soothed. She spied a dark red splotch on Em's blouse. "What happened?" she asked, her grip on Claire never loosening. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Mother," Em assured with a shaky breath. "We're both fine. It's not my blood."

"Mr. Dave got hurt," Claire supplied. Elizabeth looked at Hotch and Reid, then back at Em.

"It's true," Em confirmed without revealing too much. She brushed away a stray tear. "He's in surgery."

"How serious?" Hotch inquired.

"I don't know. They took him out by helicopter. No one has told us anything."

Years of experience had taught Elizabeth how to mask her emotions. Using that, she smiled brightly. "Claire? Are you hungry?" Claire looked at her mother and bit her lip in perfect imitation of Em's trait. Slowly she nodded. "Let's go get something to eat." She held out her hand to the girl.

Instinctively, Em's wrapped her arms around Claire. "Mother…" The day had been hell on earth, now she was being forced to surrender her daughter – her last link to Dave – over.

Elizabeth patted her arm lovingly. "It's okay. I'm just taking her down to the cafeteria. We'll be back in a few minutes. Let's get Mommy a hot chocolate," she suggested.

Easing the hold, Em nodded. Claire slid down. "Okay. Give me sugar." She leaned down for a kiss. She watched as Claire took her mother's hand in her free one while holding on to her doll with the other. She held her breath until the pair disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall.

"What happened, Emily?" Hotch asked. He had seen the bloody blouse and the stark look in Emily's eyes. He had heard that someone had been air lifted in critical condition and he had hoped that his gut feeling was wrong. But it didn't take an expert profiler to read the answer on Emily's face.

Her eyes were so sad and lifeless. Blinking fast, she tried to keep the tears at bay. When one broke free, she pressed her index fingers to stem the flow. It was one thing to cry in front of the Ambassador. But it was quite another to cry in front of Aaron Hotchner.

"Dave was shot," her voice was a strangled whisper.

"How?" Hotch was flummoxed by her response. He was under the impression that help had arrived in time. What had gone wrong? How had Dave gotten shot?

Em took a couple of deep breaths to help control her nerves, but her voice still shook as she replied, "When he saved our lives."  
****

The situation in the OR was dire, but you couldn't tell by the way the surgeon and his staff conducted themselves. Veteran doctors of too many bombings and mortar rounds that had struck their city and fellow country men, they knew how to keep calm and remain level headed in the middle of a crisis. And the man on the table was no different from other patients.

But his wound was.

Life-flighted from Amman, Jordan after the attack on the United States Embassy, they had received him and immediately whisked him into surgery. If the bleeding was any indicator, there was no time for X-rays or scans. They needed to get in stat!

Once they cracked his chest open, it hadn't taken much to find and extract the lone bullet, but that was the easy part. Now five hours later, they were still repairing the damage one bullet had inflicted.

"I need suction over here," the surgeon commanded. He paused as the person next to him took care of his request, then he went back to his task. With expert eyes, he quickly scanned the area and tried to find anything else he needed to tend to.

"He's still bleeding," a person remarked.

"Where is it coming from?" The surgeon scanned again. The area looked good. What had he missed? Mentally he replayed every single area he had tended. What was the one thing he had missed?

"His blood pressure is dropping," the anesthesiologist called out. "We're losing him!"

"Where is the bleeding coming from?" the surgeon barked. He wasn't going to lose his patient. Not now! Not after spending hours fixing him! Immediately he tried to locate the mysterious bleeder.

"He's getting ready to go into d-fib!"

"I need more time!" _Where was the wound?!_ The loud sound of the monitor flat-lining filled the room.

"Doctor!"

"Give me a minute!" _Where was it…?_ Something caught his eye! He blinked just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was. "I found it! I need suction!" How had he missed a second bullet?

Carefully, he maneuvered around the thin hose clearing the area, and guided his instrument. With a steady hand, he carefully removed the bullet and deposited it in the dish provided by one of the nurses to his right. The tiny clinking of metal on porcelain sounded loud in the still room.

Satisfied that everything was removed, the surgeon stood back while the team did what they needed to, to resuscitate the man.

"Clear!" Someone called out as the paddles were placed on Dave's chest. A second later, a jolt caused his body to buck and lift from the table. But the monitor remained the same.

Quickly they prepped the machine for round two.

"Clear!"

Another jolt of electricity coursed thru Dave's body. Everyone held their breath as they waited for the worst. But this time the monitor began beeping. Slow at first, but as his heart began to find its rhythm, the sound became faster and stronger.

There was no denying the loud sigh of relief.

"It nicked his left lobe," the surgeon explained. Quickly and efficiently, they moved in to repair Dave's newly discovered injury. While inwardly, they all said a prayer as the seconds ticked slowly by. They had lost their patient once, already; they were not going to tempt fate a second time.

An hour later they breathed a sigh of relief as Dave's chest was sewn up and his vitals continued to remain steady. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but they had done everything to make sure that he would live. The rest was up to God.

Pulling off his surgical gloves, the surgeon closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He was exhausted and drained, but he could still take some satisfaction from a job well done. "Take him to recovery," he instructed. "I'll go talk to the family."

Depositing the bloody gloves in the medical waste bin, he pushed thru the double doors to the Waiting Room.


	46. Chapter 46

**One Hello**

Dave looked around at his surroundings. He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew it wasn't where he had been. Remembering the Boy Scout Motto, he stayed still and hoped that whoever was looking for him would arrive shortly.

"Hi, Dave," Ray greeted warmly. "Funny meeting you here."

"I could say the same about you," Dave returned evenly. He paused. "Mind if I ask what's going on?"

"I don't mind if you do."

Dave held up his hand. "Where am I?"

"Where do you think you are?"

Dave gave a slight snort. "Well, doesn't that beat all? I can't imagine what my mother would say about this."

"Play your cards right, and you can ask her yourself."

"No." He shook his head. "I can't…"

"Can't what?"

"This. If I can talk with my mother, and I'm here, that means…" Dave's voice trailed off as the reality of the situation dawned on him.

"Not yet," Ray assured his friend. "But I stress 'yet'."

"Impossible."

"Why? Because _I'm_ here?"

"It's the principle of the thing, Ray. Neither of us belongs here. I mean…if they knew the things we did and got away with…"

"You mean like the time we swiped the Sacrament wine and got drunk?" Ray asked with a sly smile.

Dave laughed. He had missed that twinkle in his friend's eyes when he was up to no good.

"Amongst other things. Or the time I swiped Sister Mary Joseph's ruler right before she went to rap your knuckles."

"Considering I had to spend an hour in the corner on tip-toe with my nose in that damn circle, I would have rather had the ruler," Ray rubbed the end of his nose at the memory.

"Yeah, well, what about the toilet paper?"

"You stole it out of the Janitor's Closet," Ray fumed. "That wasn't me!"

"But it was you and Jimmy who TP'd the monastery," Dave shot back. Silence fell between the two men. "We had some great times."

"We did," Ray agreed with some melancholy.

"So, how did we get here?"

"I don't know. Something we did earned us a space. I'm not knocking it."

"What about me? I'm sure you know why I'm here."

Ray shrugged. "Like I said, I can't answer what's going on."

"Can't or won't."

"Can't. I'm not your guardian angel."

Dave's laugh was short. "You? A guardian angel? For me?"

Ray appeared offended by the remark. "I'm not a full fledged guardian angel." He pointed to his back. "See? No wings. But I'm getting there," he amended. "And like I said, I'm not _your_ guardian angel."

Dave's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If you're not mine, whose are you…? Ray…" The wheels in his mind began spinning as it began to put the pieces together. "Claire. You're Claire's."

Ray's smile was broad. "Guilty."

"You're the one who told her about the lima beans."

"Purely by accident," he defended. "It slipped. But it help the two of you bond."

"Was she…you know…was she supposed to…?" Dave couldn't bring himself to say the word. If it had been her time and he had taken those bullets to save her life, he would gladly take a million more.

"I don't know," Ray confessed. "I don't think so. I wasn't privy to the plan; I was just…"

"The messenger," Dave finished. "So, if it wasn't Claire, then who? Me?"

"I can't discuss it," Ray evaded.

"You were never good at lying... Especially to me. I could always read you like a book, Ray. Tell me, who is my guardian angel? And don't tell me that it's one of my ex-wives, because: 1) I'm not in hell…yet, and 2) I was only shot once."

"Twice."

"Twice?"

"I could replay it for you," Ray offered.

"No thanks. I guess I was too caught up in trying to protect my family that I wasn't paying attention to what was going on." Dave nodded. "Okay, shot twice. So, who is it? Gideon?"

"No. He opted out of this one. He figured that after the Christmas visit, there wasn't much he could contribute."

"Probably just as well," Dave groused. "We didn't get along when we were alive; death isn't going to change much between us."

"Look, I need to go." Ray turned to leave.

"Wait! You're leaving me? Here? I don't know where…"

"It will be alright, Dave. She'll be here, soon."

Unable to find a response, Dave watched his friend walk away. _She?_

"Now what do I do?" he asked no one in particular. It would be his fate to be stuck outside the Pearly Gates. Sticking his hands in his jeans pockets, he looked around. He had to admit that it was pretty inviting, and he was tempted to walk inside, but there was still a part of him that had too many questions that needed immediate answers.

"What's your question?" Zoe asked as she walked up from behind.

"Which one?"

"I sense that you have a few. But I'll take the immediate one…for now." Her smile was pure and genuine. Just as he remembered. If anyone had been destined to be an angel, it was Zoe.

"Why am I here?"

"Because you made the ultimate sacrifice."

"I didn't do anything brave," he countered. "I was just trying to save my family."

"Well, it was them or you."

Anger filled Dave. "You were going to take my daughter?! Why?!"

"There is a reason for everything."

"There is no reason for that. She's only a child. She has her life in front of her!"

"I agree. And because you were there, her life was spared. But to be honest, neither one of you were on the immediate list," she continued.

Dave eyed her warily. "Then who was…? Wait! Emily was on the list?!"

"You knew she was; we showed you. Remember?"

He couldn't believe it. Hell, he didn't want to believe it. "I thought I changed things by arriving in Jordan. I mean, wasn't that the whole reason my name was picked?"

"Regardless of who went over, she was still on the list. Her time was up."

"Emily's good people," he defended passionately. "She loves that little girl with all of her heart. She loves her family. She needs to be down there."

"She's needed up here, too. Besides, that's changed."

Dave's eyes searched hers. "So…this…this is it? I'm here for good?"

"Do you want to go back?" she offered.

"I don't know." He could be out of their lives for good. Em could finally move on and find someone to give her the happiness she deserved.

"What about Claire?" Zoe asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Emily could move on, but what about Claire? She's going to need her dad."

Dread filled him as he recalled losing his dad. But he had been older. Maybe that's why it hurt so much to remember. But she was young and able to bounce back. She would survive.

"I set things up to take care of her. She'll be alright."

"You don't know that," she returned.

"But you do."

"Regardless of what I do and don't know, you will need to make a decision."

"When do I need to make up my mind?" he wondered.

"Well, up here eternity is the clock we go by," she said. "But I suggest you not take quite that long. I'll leave you alone to think things over." Zoe turned to leave, but stopped to look back at the man she still worshipped. Even with his clay feet and truck load of flaws, she still admired him.

"By the way," she threw out, "you can look down and see what's happening at any time."

Dave barely acknowledged her statement as he walked over to the edge of the cloud and sat down.


	47. Chapter 47

_Due to some changes at work that are out of my control, I may have to work extra hours during the next few days. So I thought I would post this chapter today. To all of the readers who are following and/or reviewing, thank you for your dedication. I really hope to finish this story soon, but as long as work calls, I have to go. As for Dave, maybe it IS going to take a miracle to bring him back._

* * *

**One Hello**

Glancing at the figure sitting on the bed, Hotch lightly rapped his knuckles on the door frame of Dave's hospital room. There was no response, and he wasn't expecting one in return.

Approaching quietly, he spoke, "Hi, Emily." Then his heart broke as he took in her pale, tear-streaked face. Even in the dim light, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. Gently, he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"How is he?"

Em's eyes never left Dave's face. "No change." Her voice was raw from emotion and too many tears. She was so tired, but she didn't dare sleep, didn't dare miss a moment when he could wake up so she could hear his voice say her name just once more.

"Reid's been talking with Dave's doctors," Hotch informed her solemnly. "They said that a coma is not uncommon after such trauma." That much was true. But he left out how they were still unsure as to the extent of damage caused by the cardiac arrest. Two days of tests had proved nothing. If Dave would only wake up…

"But it's been two days; he should have woken up by now." She sniffed and ran the back of her hand under her already chafed nose.

Hotch went to speak, then closed his mouth. What advice could he give her that would provide her the comfort she so desperately needed? Nothing, he concluded. But he had to try.

"He's going to be alright, Emily." Trite words, but he had to offer her some kind of hope, a promise.

Her bleak eyes met his. "You don't know that." She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. "It should have been me."

"It shouldn't have been anyone," Hotch corrected.

"That…that…" she struggled to find the correct descriptive. "…man," she finished, "he pointed at Claire," she rasped as the memory came back. "He was going to shoot her, and Dave…" she trailed off.

Her hot tears fell fast. She reached out and touched Dave's unshaven cheek. "He saved us."

"Emily…" Hotch interrupted.

She continued as though he hadn't spoken."He threw himself between her and…" _Death!_ But she couldn't say the word out loud. "Now…now he's going to…" Her slight form shook from the force of her sobs.

"Come here, Emily," Hotch enveloped her in his strong arms. "It's going to be okay," he murmured. "He's strong."

"I never told him…" Her words were muffled by his shirt. She was vaguely aware of Hotch's hands stroking her back. Everything seemed so desperate and unsure, but she could take safety in her friend's touch.

"You can tell him when he wakes up."

She shook her head. "What if he doesn't?"

"The David Rossi I know would _never_ back down from a fight," Hotch reasoned matter of factly. "If he can jump in and win, he will."

Em pulled away. "I don't know."

Hotch crooked a finger under her chin to lift her eyes to meet his. "You know Dave. You know that he's a fighter. He's _going_ to come back to you."

"I want to believe," she whispered. It was more than want, she _needed_ to believe. She swiped at her nose with the back of her sleeve. Hotch reached for the Kleenex on the night table.

"Here," he offered the tissue.

"Thanks." Gently she blew her nose. Balling the paper into a wad, she tossed it toward the waste basket - and made it. Maybe _that_ was a sign.

"When the team thought you had died, it was Dave who believed that you might come back. He was the one with the most faith that heaven would give you back to us." Hotch's lips curved in a soft smile. "Then seven months later, you did."

"Because I lied to everyone. I wasn't really dead," she argued.

"To the team, you were. You could have stayed away, lived your life, but you came back because one person had faith. Now that person needs you to have faith that _he_ will come back," he encouraged.

Em took Dave's cold hand in hers and held tight. Closing her eyes, she tried to will some of her strength into him. _Wake up,_ she pleaded silently. _Hear me. Feel me touching you. Wake up. Come back to me. Please._

"You need to get some rest."

"No."

"Emily, you look like hell. You need a hot shower and something to eat," his tone kind but firm. She looked hesitantly at Dave for any movement. Nothing. "Plus, it's the day after Christmas, and I think your daughter has waited long enough to open her presents."

_Claire!_ The only reason she would consider leaving the man she loved and owed her life to. Slowly she nodded. "Okay. But just for a few hours. If something were to happen…"

"Nothing is going to happen. I'll stay with him." He took her hand and helped her stand up. Em waited as the shakiness in her legs passed. "Are you okay?"

"I am," she assured him.

"Reid is waiting to take you back to the embassy. Go be with Claire. Get some rest. That's an order." He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You're not my BAU leader any more," she reminded him.

"Perhaps. But I'm still your friend." He gave her a comforting wink. "Now go."

Em picked up her purse and coat, then made her way to the door. Stopping, she turned around and looked at the man lying on the sterile white bed. She tried to ignore the breathing apparatus and other wires hooked up to monitor his vitals. All she wanted to do was memorize his face. It took everything she had not to run back and kiss him.

As if he could read her thoughts – and perhaps he could because he had been where Em was now – Hotch sighed. He comforted himself that no matter what happened, she would still be able to tell Dave that she loved him.

"Call me if… Okay?"

"Go, Emily."

One last glance and then she was gone.

Hotch pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the otherwise silent room. He looked at his best friend and tried to think of something to say, but he didn't know where to start.

A few minutes later, a nurse came in to check Dave's vitals and jot the numbers down on her chart. With a nod of her head, she left them alone.

The silence roared like thunder in Hotch's ears. Taking a deep breath, he spoke from the heart.

"I wish I could be angry at you for doing what you did, Dave, but I would have done the same thing. I _did_ do the same thing," he amended. "I suppose that's what a parent does. It's a feeling you…can't compare with anything else."

He waited for a response that didn't come.

"I understand now how much you love Emily. I doubted it before, but you proved me wrong. But the Ambassador…she thinks you're going to break her daughter's heart again. Prove her wrong. Show her what I know. Come back to Emily, Dave. Come back to Claire. Live for them. They love you. Don't break their hearts."

Hotch's trained profiler eye caught a flicker of something. It was so faint, he almost missed it. Had Dave moved? He looked closer. He knew Dave had heard him, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Neither was he going to say anything until he knew for sure. So he tried again.

"Emily loves you, Dave."

Holding his breath, he waited to see what response that revelation would evoke. But as the seconds turned into a minute, he chalked it up to a fluke.

Dave never moved.


	48. Chapter 48

_You have to hate the flu. It swept thru my workspace and I was the only person not to succumb. Then I had to send my daughter to Arkansas. So, it's been a long month. I finally got this chapter completed, but I am hesitant to post it. I know that a lot of you have sided with Ambassador Prentiss and liked the way she was portrayed as a caring mother. This chapter is going to delve into her unresolved anger toward Dave. Yes, you may think she's being a bitch, but try to see it from her side. And to be honest, I really think she is making valid points for Em to consider._

* * *

**One Hello**

Elizabeth Prentiss pushed open the door to the kitchen.

"Emily," she gently admonished, "what are you doing up? You should be sleeping."

The faint smile Em tried to force never reached her red-rimmed eyes. She was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. Lying in the bed, snuggled next to her daughter, she should have felt a sense of relief or maybe victory. But she didn't. Not while Dave was struggling to live.

"I'm not tired," she fibbed and sipped the coffee that had since grown cold in her mug. The bitter taste combined with artificial sweetener caused her to blanch.

"You look worn out." Elizabeth opened the cupboard and took down a mug. Quietly she filled it, then took it to the small table located in the middle of the room.

"I'm fine." Em refused to meet her mother's eyes. She might be a great profiler, but the Ambassador was the best. "I couldn't sleep; too much on my mind." It never ceased to amaze her how the Ambassador could always look so…refined and dignified despite living on no sleep or jetting from one country to another on a moment's notice. Never a hair out of place – it didn't dare with Elizabeth Prentiss! – make-up always perfect. Em had always felt she could never live up to the standard her mother had set.

"Did you hear from the hospital?" Elizabeth inquired and routinely prepared her coffee.

"Hotch said there wasn't any change, and that I should get some sleep."

"Agent Hotchner would know best."

"I'm going down there."

Elizabeth set down her mug. "Emily, there is nothing you can do. The doctors…"

"I can be with him!" Em stated vehemently. "He needs me!"

"Dear." Elizabeth covered Em's hand with hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "He doesn't even know you're there. You…your presence – or lack there of – will never be felt. Let the doctors do what they need to do."

"Mother, what are you trying to say?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth, then closed it as she considered her reply. There was no way she could sugar-coat her feelings. But she would try.

"What if I said that I don't want David Rossi to survive?" She held her index finger up as Em started her retort. "Hear me out. Please."

Em let out a heavy breath and leaned back in the chair to hear her mother's side of the argument.

"It's no secret that I despise David Rossi for what he did to you. He was deliberately cruel and unkind, and…the way he treated you…" Elizabeth brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "There is no forgiveness. The only reason I didn't ruin him, is Claire." Her hand trembled as she brought the mug to her lips and sipped. "At least something good came from that disaster."

"Mother, he's changed," Em defended. "If you had only seen him -"

"I have seen him. And though it was at his worst, it told me everything I needed to know about who he truly is."

Em shook her head. "That's not fair! You can't base it on that one moment! He deserves a second chance."

"Emily, I have dealt with dictatorships and regimes that would rival some of the criminals you have arrested. I can look in a man's eyes and see what is in his heart. He hasn't changed."

"And throwing himself between the gunman and Claire? What was that?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips into a thin line. "If I had to make an educated guess: He was easing his guilty conscience."

Em jumped up from the table. "I can't believe you said that!"

"What did you want me to say? That I'm happy that he's come back into your life? That I forgive him and stand back so he can go about finishing the destruction he started? That I want him to live?"

"Are you saying that you want him to _die_?" Em choked out in a tight voice.

"I'm saying that if he was out of your life, things would be a lot easier," Elizabeth reasoned matter of factly.

"He is Claire's _father_!"

"That can't be changed. But she doesn't know him. And what kind of father can he be?"

"He spent time with her; they got along!" Em desperately wanted so badly to defend Dave. He had rights. But deep in the back of her subconscious, her mother's words were uncovering an emotion she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Really?" Elizabeth shot back. "Because I have yet to hear her call him anything but Mr. Dave."

"She's three and a half, Mother. She's still getting used to him."

"So it won't be difficult for her to get used to him not being there."

Anger built up inside Em so violently she began to shake. She and the Ambassador had had many arguments and disagreements in the past, but never had one made her see red. Unconsciously her hands clenched and unclenched as she counted to twenty in French.

"Dave _will_ be in her life."

"David Rossi is the most unreliable person when it comes to making and keeping a vow. I know about his three previous marriages, and I know what caused each one to end in divorce. I also know everything about his lothario reputation at the FBI. You don't get legendary status like that without trying. He'll leave you again, Emily. He lives for the moment of fresh and new and basking in the moment."

"I'm not hearing this," Em shook her head, denying what her mother was saying.

Elizabeth stood up, walked over to Em and cupped her daughter's face in her hands. "You're going to let him in, but when he leaves and hurts Claire, what are you going to do? I know you think he loves you and Claire, but it's time to think with your head and not your heart."

"He loves me. He loves Claire," Em reiterated, her strained whisper barely audible. "He never would have risked his life if he didn't."

"I'm not saying that he can't feel love – and maybe he does love you both in his own way – but don't get fooled by him again. Four years ago I had to pick the pieces up, do you remember, Emily?" Elizabeth's voice was clogged by tears. "Or have you forgotten?"

"It's different."

"Is it? Are you positive?"

Em's chin quivered. A single tear slipped out to race down her pale cheek. She tried to meet Elizabeth's eyes, but couldn't.

"We can stay until he's out of the woods," Elizabeth reasoned. "Then we'll fly back to the States and prepare for the hearings. Then we are hiring a lawyer to make sure that David Rossi can never claim Claire for his own."

Em held up her hand. "He would never take Claire. I know him."

"Do you? How do you know? Did he tell you this?"

"Yes." She nodded, but doubt was seeping in.

"And he also told you that he loved you and would never hurt you. Then what did he do the night of the rehearsal dinner? He can't be trusted. If he lives, who is to say that he won't use his connections to take that little girl for his own and leave you in the cold? Have you thought all of this through?"

Em blinked back the hot tears that were betraying her. She wanted to be strong and level-headed; instead, she was breaking down in front of the last person she expected.

"And what if he doesn't make it?" she asked.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Elizabeth replied evenly, her brown eyes – so much like her daughter's – held firm and steady as her tone.

Em drew in a shaky breath. "I see." She pulled back and brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I'm going to see Claire, then I'm going to the hospital." She started toward the door.

"Emily," Elizabeth called out. "I know that I might sound harsh and cold, but see it from my point of view." She turned to look at her daughter's back. "I'm going on past experience and what I've seen. There is a saying my father used to tell me: 'One oh shit can wipe out ninety-nine attaboys'. But that doesn't mean one attaboy can wipe out ninety-nine oh shits, either."

"You know where to reach me," Em commented. Then she pushed thru the door and left Elizabeth to stand alone in the kitchen.

Waiting for the door to close, Elizabeth bowed her head in defeat. What more could she have done?  
*****

Hurrying to her room to change, Em tried not to let her mother's words affect her. But the statement that she hadn't told Dave that she loved him still rang in her ears. She didn't want to analyze the rhyme and reason for being a coward.

Running a brush thru her hair, she pinned it up and reached for her scarf. Securing it in place, she shrugged. Yeah, she looked like hell, but what could she do about it?

Once she found out how Dave was faring, she would come back and sleep. That much she could promise.

"Mommy?" Claire called out as she entered the room.

"Hi, Claire bear." Em grabbed her up and hugged her tight. "Where were you?"

"Drawing a picture. See?" She held up the piece of paper with scribbles significant and clear enough to resemble forms and shapes.

"That's very nice. Is it for me?" Em smiled.

"No. It's for Mr. Dave. He missed Christmas, so I drew a picture of Santa." Claire pointed to the blob in red.

"It looks like Santa," Em agreed.

"Will you take it to him?"

"Yes."

"Will it make him feel better?"

Em considered lying, but thought against it. "I don't know, honey. He's still asleep."

"Well, wake him up. I want him to come home."

"I'll tell him that."

"Tell God not to take him."

Emotion threatened to overwhelm Em. "I will do my best. Okay, give me a kiss. I'll be home in a little while." Em set Claire down. Together they walked to the front door. "Be good for Grand-mere."

"I will. 'member to tell Mr. Dave he needs to colour a picture."

Another kiss. "Yes. Now go to the kitchen." Em watched her daughter leave the room. Then she turned and left.


	49. Chapter 49

**One Hello**

"When are you coming in, because we're waiting for you," Emma greeted as she walked up to Dave.

Turning his head, Dave looked at the woman who had captured his young heart all those years ago – before life had changed him. Long before he had met Emily. "Hello, Emma. I was wondering when they might send you." He was tempted to move over and let her sit down, but at the last moment, he stayed where he was.

"You haven't gone thru the gates, yet," she remarked wistfully. "I thought you might be doing a tap dance past St. Peter."

"I need to do some thinking," he replied absently.

"But you have permission to go in. What are you waiting for?" she wondered, though she had her suspicions.

"It's not right."

Emma smiled, but she was confused. "What isn't?"

"That I'm up here."

"You've had your moments," she admitted with a slight sarcastic snort, "but your good deeds out weigh all of your sins. You've earned your place; take it."

Dave flicked his gaze downward. "I should be down there. I should be with my family."

"You should. But from what I've seen, the two people who can make a difference haven't voiced it. Maybe you should consider staying here," she suggested matter of factly.

"My daughter is down there," Dave argued. "She needs me."

Emma nodded sympathetically. "But what about Emily? Does _she_ need you?"

Dave opened his mouth, then closed it. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Do you think she would keep Claire from you?"

"I don't think so," he sighed. "But the pull the Ambassador has might be too strong. I'm afraid that she may use her influence to exact revenge." He thought for a moment. "Which, I suppose, is understandable. Had a man done to my daughter what I did to Emily… Let's just say that my owning a gun…" he left the rest unsaid.

"I heard what Emily's mother said about you," Emma confessed.

"You don't think I would do what she claimed, do you?" he challenged. Too many years had passed between them, too much water was under the bridge, but he hoped Emma could remember the man he had been before life had jaded him. But he also hoped that she had seen the man he had become in the past four years.

"I think," she began slowly, choosing her words carefully, "that the David Rossi who left the Marines and joined the FBI would have taken Claire away from Emily in a New York minute without a glance backwards."

"Gee, thanks," he groused. He made a move to get up.

Emma reached out and touched his arm to still him. "But the Dave of recent would never do that. You would want what is best for her."

"I do. I want to be there for her. I want to be there for Emily."

"Even if it means that she won't let you?"

"I am going to do everything to make sure that she believes I've changed."

"But…?" Emma prompted.

He dropped his shoulders. "There is something the Ambassador said that is eating at me." Emma raised her eyebrow. "She suggested that I threw myself in front of the shooter and Claire for purely selfish reasons."

"And you didn't?"

"Hell no!" Dave looked around and gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry. No, I didn't," he amended. "I did what anyone would have done. Still…"

"Still?"

"I don't understand how everything went so wrong," he mused. "We were all at the panic room. We had time to get to safety. Why did Claire have to get her doll when help was on the way?"

"Because I told Ray to tell her to get her doll."

"You what?! You nearly killed my daughter? Why?" Dave was angry – and rightfully so! But he was also confused.

"Because it wasn't about Claire; it was about Emily," Emma replied.

"You were going to kill Emily?!" Dave tried to wrap his head around the revelation.

"It was her time."

"No!" He tried to deny it.

Emma nodded. "Yes."

"I thought I was supposed to save her. I thought that is why Zoe showed me the Christmas future," he argued. "I was supposed to save her from being shot."

"No. You weren't supposed to save her."

The logical part of Dave tried to understand the reasoning, but he came up short. "If I wasn't supposed to save her, then why was I there?"

"To save everyone else," she replied simply. "You managed to throw a monkey wrench into heaven's plans. As always." Her blue eyes were soft without being accusing.

"It's a natural born talent, what can I say?" he said with a slight snort. "But I didn't save everyone." The memory of the Marine who died in his arms flashed. He never did get a chance to tell the young man's family his bravery under fire. And with every thing that was happening, he had forgotten to send Zoe's mother a Christmas card. Regret made him hang his head.

"Are you alright?" Emma inquired.

"No. I guess you could say that I have unfinished business down there." He let out a long breath.

"The Marine and Zoe's mother."

Dave was flummoxed by the statement. "How did you know?"

"It's my business to know everything. Now that Emily is not on the list, I have to find another to guide."

"And my name came up?"

"You could choose to stay. You've met all the requirements for being able to walk thru the Pearly Gates," she offered.

"I don't think St. Peter is too happy with me." Dave checked out the patron saint at the podium outside the gates of heaven. He shouldn't be afraid, but too many years of Catechism taught under the watchful eyes of strict nuns came back to make him question Emma's invite.

"He's not as bad as he looks. I want you to stay."

Dave hesitated. "I don't know…"

"There are no worries up here; everyone you love is here."

"Jason Gideon isn't on that list," he reminded with blanch. "Virginia wasn't big enough for the two of us; I doubt heaven will be any different."

"Grudges don't hold up here."

"You don't know Jason."

Emma sighed. "I know him well enough. I know you, too. And the both of you are the two most hard-headed men I've ever known. At least now I know why Zoe was put in charge. She has the patience of Job."

"I know." But the accusations Ambassador Prentiss had lobbed still rang in his ears. He didn't think that he was selfish – arrogant, perhaps, but not selfish. But he did love that little girl more than life. There was a part of him that wanted to stay, but…

"What's on your mind, Dave?" Emma inquired.

"Something Emily's mother said. Claire has never called me 'daddy'." His heart ached at the realization that his little girl had never used the endearment. "She's always called me 'Mr. Dave'."

"I see. But that's not all…"

"Em's never told me that she loves me."

"And that would make you go back?"

Dave nodded. "Yes. Yes, it would." He couldn't give up hope that the look in Em's eyes as she tended to his wound was nothing more than a fluke. He had to believe that she truly loved him and wanted him back in her life. If not, then everything he ever accomplished was for naught.

Emma was quiet for a long time. "I see," she said with a nod. "I'll let you alone to think." She patted Dave's shoulder softly, then turned around and walked away.


	50. Chapter 50

_Sorry for the delay in posting, but I've been pulling extra shifts, and I think my brain has melted from exhaustion. I am going to try finishing this story before summer begins. Also, I have been mulling ideas for a couple of other stories that are currently on the standby list. But if there is anything you have flagged and would like me to consider, drop me a PM and let me know! Who knows, you might get the hamster up and running again, and you might get a chapter dedicated to you! That said, thanks for reading, and thanks for your continued patience!_

* * *

**One Hello**

"Two days in a coma isn't unusual," Reid remarked matter of fact. "Especially when someone has suffered the type of injury Rossi did." He sipped from the Styrofoam cup held in his hands.

"So, he'll come out of it?" Hotch inquired. He tried to keep the hope out of his tone, but Dave was still his best friend. He couldn't give up the chance of Dave waking up. It wasn't too much to ask. Then again, he had hoped to get to Haley in time, too.

"There was considerable blood loss. And he went into cardiac arrest once. It's possible that he has suffered irreversible damage to his brain." Reid had gone over Dave's medical charts a hundred times, and even spoke to the doctors. The only conclusion anyone could come to was that they didn't know.

"When will we know?" Hotch didn't want to think worst case scenario. He didn't want to think of the once vibrant, legendary FBI agent reduced to… He shook his head to clear the image. He wasn't going to think about that!

"Tests can only tell so much. The rest really depends on him."

"How so?" Hotch braced himself for the worst – or best – of news.

Reid gave a shrug of his shoulders. "He needs to wake up."  
******

Her knees hurt. Her lower back was on fire. And her tears were dry. Yet, she couldn't bear to move herself from the peaceful refuge of the church annex. Dark – save for the light at the front of the sanctuary – she had taken comfort in praying. It had been the first time in four years since she had thrown herself on God's mercy. She wondered if it was too late to ask for a favour.

There was so much she wanted to say. But where to start? She had harboured hateful thoughts and impure feelings of revenge in her heart toward Dave. And though her mother had been out of line with her accusations, there was still that sense of doubt that Dave wouldn't try to take their daughter. But the logical side knew better.

And she wanted him to live! She was just beginning to acknowledge she wanted him to come back so they could at least give their relationship another chance. Maybe if they both gave it their all this time, it could work to be what it should have been. Hell, if the way they had made love was any indicator, they more than had all the ingredients for success.

But say they didn't, and they failed…again, well, at least her conscience would be clear and she could tell Claire that they had given it all they had.

Still, deep down inside, there was the part of her soul that still hurt from the way Dave had treated her that Christmas of past. The hurtful, mean, inconsiderate asshole, who was nothing like the man she had fallen in love with, who had shattered her heart and world with just a few words and actions. _That_ was the man she feared would wake from the coma. _That_ was the man she didn't want to deal with. But what could she do? There was no way to determine if Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde would be in her and Claire's life for the next thirty years.

Em rubbed her tired eyes. She prided herself on being a world-class profiler, but three times it failed her when she needed it most. She couldn't afford to put herself in that situation again. Doyle had nearly killed her, Dave had nearly destroyed her, and terrorists had nearly annihilated her. She wouldn't survive a fourth assault.

Her heart ached painfully as every nerve in her body tingled from anticipation and stress. She took a deep breath. Claire was first and foremost her priority – as she should be, but Dave did throw himself between Claire and a madman's bullet. Em owed him a place on the list.

But, she needed answers. No, she corrected herself, she _demanded_ answers. She had to know where she and Claire had stood in Dave's life. She wanted that reassurance that everything was going to be okay. And if it wasn't, what his intentions were – or had been.

Folding her hands under her chin, she bowed her head. _Please, God. Send me something…anything…to help me understand what I should do. Help me know where we fit in Dave's life. Help me to know what was really in his heart. Please! Give me a sign!  
****_

"Any word on Rossi?" Pen asked hopefully to JJ, who was sitting at Hotch's desk. Stepping inside, she closed the door, then walked over to the chair and sat down. She took in the weary look of the blonde. Since the news of the embassy siege – and rescue – and Rossi's bravery – they had been on pins and needles for any news. The time difference made it difficult to know exactly what was happening. But Pen had set it up that should any news come in, they were alerted via computer or text message.

JJ shook her head regretfully. "No change. They are going to do another test in a few hours to see if the heart attack damaged his brain." She watched her friend nervously fidget. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared," Pen replied. At JJ's blank look, she continued. "I know he's changed. I _want_ to believe he's changed…but…" She took a deep breath, held it, let it out. "What if he hasn't? What if he's the Rossi of old and wants to hurt Emily?"

"I doubt that. I spoke with Hotch. He assured me that Dave never had any intention of taking Claire. In fact, he wanted to work things out." She didn't divulge that Hotch had confided that he had had to order Emily to go home and get some rest. There was no reason to worry Pen. It was all _she_ could do to get Pen to lie down and rest.

"But what if being shot and being in a coma changes that?"

"You were shot and didn't change for bad," JJ gently reminded Pen.

"Well…yeah. But this is David Rossi. He's been as unpredictable as the wind."

"He _was_. Since that Christmas four years ago, he has been trying to make things right. He's never forgotten Henry and Jack's birthdays. He's gone above and beyond trying to help out here at the BAU and academy – even though he's been retired. I think he's been trying to make amends."

"I guess," Pen agreed reluctantly. "I did change…some. What if the bad Rossi comes out? What do we do?"

JJ wanted to comfort Pen and tell her that everything was going to be alright. She wanted assure her friend that it was all going to work out in the end. In her heart, she knew that what was meant to be was out of their hands. It was best to leave it to a Higher Power.

She had seen Dave with Henry. She had seen with her own eyes the lost soul who had come out after losing Emily. She had seen how he had tried to put the pieces back together and make amends for all the pain he had caused. She had listened to him spill secrets deep into the night over cups of coffee in her kitchen. Yes, she had seen many bad things while at the BAU, but deep down inside, she had to believe that there was still some good in people.

JJ leaned forward and took Pen's hands in hers and gave a comforting squeeze. "We pray for both of them," she replied simply.


End file.
